Love And Miracle (Jack O'Callahan Fanfiction)
by SloveniaWriter95
Summary: When Kimberly Mayfield decides to take up a challenge and tries out for the Olympic Team in summer of 1979, she has no idea how many turns lies ahead of her. But can she even make it to the end or will something destroy her dreams?
1. Chapter 0: Introduction

**CHAPTER 0: INTRODUCTION**

Kimberly Annette Mayfield: 17th December 1959; left wing ; #13 ; Providence, Rhode Island; Brown University; _Kim, Chicka, Brown_

Steven James Janaszak: 7th January 1957; goaltender; # 1; White Bear Lake, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Steve, Janny_

James Downey "Jim" Craig: 31st May 1957; goaltender; #30; North Easton, Massachusetts; Boston University; _Jim, Jimmy, JC, Jawbreaker_

William Robert Baker: 29th November 1956; defenseman; #6; Grand Rapids, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Bill, Bakes_

Kenneth Arlington Morrow: 17th October 1956; defenseman; #3;Davison, Michigan; Bowling Green; _Ken, Kenny, Mo_

John J. O'Callahan: 24th July 1957; defenseman; #17; Charlestown, Massachusetts; Boston University; _Jack, OC, Asshole (Kim)_

Michael Allen Ramsey: 3rd December 1960; defenseman; #5; Minneapolis, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Mike, Rammer_

Robert Allen Suter: 16th May 1957; defenseman; #20; Madison, Wisconsin; University of Wisconsin; _Bob, Suts, Bam-Bam, Woody_

Neal LaMoy Broten: 29th November 1959; center; #9; Roseau, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Neal, Brots, Mouse (Mac)_

David William Christian: 12th May 1959; defenseman-turned-forward; #23; Warroad, Minnesota; University of North Dakota; _Dave, Koho, DC_

Steven Mark Christoff: 23rd January 1958; right wing; #11; Richfield, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Steve, Rif, Ref (Kim)_

Michael Eruzione: 25th October 1954; left wing; #21; Winthrop, Massachusetts; Boston University, Toledo Golddiggers (IHL); _Mike, Rizzo, Ritz_

John Harrington: 24th May 1957; right wing; #28; Virgina, Minnesota; University of Minnesota- Duluth; _Bah_

Mark Einar Johnson: 22nd September 1957; center; #10; Madison, Wisconsin; University of Wisconsin; _Mark, Magic_

Robert Bruce "Rob" McClanahan: 9th January 1958; left wing; #24; St. Paul, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Rob, Robby, Mac, Big Baby, Sir, [Candy Ass, Pansy, Pretty Boy]_

Mark Thomas Pavelich: 28th February 1958; center; #16; Eveleth, Minnesota; University of Minnesota- Duluth; _Mark, Pav_

William Conrad Schneider: 14th September 1954; left wing; #25; Babbitt, Minnesota; University of Minnesota, Milwaukee Admirals (IHL); _Buzz, Buzzy, Babbitt-Rabbit_

David Mark Silk: 1st January 1958; right wing; #8; Scituate, Massachusetts; Boston University; _Dave, Silky, Doctor_

Eric Martin Strobel: 5th June 1958; right wing; #19; Rochester, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Eric, E, Strobs,_

Phillip John Verchota: 28th December 1956; left wing; #27; Duluth, Minnesota; University of Minnesota; _Phil, Filthy, Grumpy Hammerhead_

Mark Ronald Wells: 18th September 1957; center; #15; St. Clair Shores, Michigan; Bowling Green; _Mark, Wellsie_


	2. Chapter 1: What To Expect?

_A/N Welcome to my first fanfiction!:) I hope you will like it and there won't be too many grammar mistakes since English is not my first language:). Anyway, reviews are welcome, I would love to know what you feel about the story. Okay, I will shut up now:)_

 **CHAPTER 1: WHAT TO EXPECT?**

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

 _Beeep! Beeep! Beeep! Beeep!_

I dig my hand from underneath my blanket and smash the alarm clock mercilessly.

 _Beeep! Beeep! Beeep! Beeep!_

Groaning in annoyance, I repeat my action and expect the annoying sound to be over.

 _ **BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEP!**_

" Oh for fucks sake!" I jolt up and grab my alarm clock with one intention only. To throw it to the ground and break it. Just before I smash it against the wooden floor of my dorm room, I realize it was not my alarm clock that woke me up. Well, first ringing it was, but not the following two.

"Come on, sleepy head. We are late!" my room-and teammate Alice shakes me. I bury my head in a pillow and mumble: "I hate you, Alice Rose Roy."

The mattress squeaks as she jumps on my bed and starts bouncing up and down: "I won't stop until you are awake!"  
"I am awake, I am awake. Jeeesh, you are so annoying!"

"Nope. I just don't want to skate extra laps for being late."

Now I am really awake: "Extra laps for being late? On a morning practice? Oh, shitshitshit!"

I jump off the bed and the change of pressure sends Ali fly off my bed as well and on the floor.

"How long do we have?"  
"Twenty minutes."

"Fucking shit! Are you ready to go? Your gear in a bag? Stick ready?"

"Calm down. You are the one who can never get up, not me. With an attitude like that you have zero chances of being the new captain."

Twenty minutes later Alice and I are on the ice, panting hard from all that running from our dorm room to the ice hall. I lean my head on the end of my stick and breath out a cloud of air.

"You are not in your last season shape, now are you?" Alice laughs, leaning her hands on her knees, her stick laying flat on the ice.

"You think you are?"

"Okay, girls, gather up!" our coach yells and we pile around him.

"Welcome back again, girls, I hope you haven't forgotten to exercise during the break…."  
"Yeah,' I mumble to Alice, making her suppress a laugh, which comes out of her mouth like a snort. Our coach turns to the two of us and his gaze stops on our red faces: "You two don't seem in a good condition though."  
"We ran all the way from our dorm. And running with a hockey bag is not fun," I answer with an innocent smile. Ali next to me huffs again, apparently trying her best not to start laughing. Coach O'Connell furrows his eyebrows before he looks at Alice with a stern look on her face, making her stop laughing immediately.

"Roy and Mayfield…" I close my eyes when he says Alice's and mine surname, knowing this will not be good. Damn, I should really learn not to speak my mind all the time.

"Goal line. The rest of you," he looks at our teammates and continues " off the ice. You two… sprints."

Alice behind me starts gasping for air. She has never been punished and I feel kinda bad for dragging her into this. I know how much playing for coach O'Connell means to her… As for me, I look up at his eyes and spit out: "How many, _coach?_ "

"Let's make it five," coach has never seemed more entertained. I swallow few profanities and get on the goal line, however, silently cursing him. And my tongue.

The whistle blows and I barely have time for another sigh before speeding down the ice.

Four sprints later and I am out of breath. This is an absolute torture and I don't know if I can handle the entire practice. I quickly glance over Ali, who is in the same condition as I am. Breathless, red-cheeked, exhausted and with sore legs. We lean on a goal post and I whisper to her: "Just once more. Just once more."

"I hate you, you know?"  
"STOP TALKING AND START SKATING!"

I close my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. I will never talk back to any coach. Ever.

 _Just once more. Once more and this is over, Kim._

Trying to keep my legs going, I speed up once again. But my muscles don't agree. One moment I am skating and in another moment my helmet meets the icy surface after my legs give up.

"KIM! Kimberly, are you alright?"

"I am fine, I am fine." I stand up and look at coach: "We done enough skating?"

A small smile draws on his face as he nods: "Yes. Drink some water and get back here."

Ali and I skate to the bench, our legs barely functioning properly. Alice looks at me while I am drinking that water like someone who hasn't drunk in a while: "Why didn't you keep your mouth shut?"  
"I know, I know, I am sorry," I mumble and pour some water on my face to cool down a bit.

"I promise I will try harder, okay?" I hug my friend before we skate back to have another two hours of practice.

Two hours fly by quickly and while changing out of my gear, coach assistant knocks. You should've seen the speed all of us grabbed our sweatpants, jerseys or those girls who were just getting into a shower, the nearest towel.

"May I come in?"

"Uh, sure!" Lauren, alternate captain of the last two years yells in response while quickly glancing around the locker room.

Thomas Moore, young and nervous-looking coach assistant walks in. It's obvious how uncomfortable is for him to just waltz into a locker room, full of girls.

"Coach asked me to bring Kimberly over to his office."  
"Can't he wait?" I sigh and start unlacing my skates again.

"I am still in my gear."

"Now. He needs to talk to you right now. It's urgent."

I sigh and roll my eyes: "Fine. Give me five minutes to get…"  
"Now. Even if you are in your gear, now."

When I catch Lauren's gaze and her shaking her head, I shut my mouth and get up from the bench. Pulling down my chest protector and pulling a hoodie on, I say to Thomas: "What's so important coach can't wait?"  
"Just follow me, please."

Okay, I admit. His tone makes me concerned. Will my talking back bring bigger consequences than I could've ever imagined?

With a lump in my throat I wait after Thomas knocks on the door of coach's office for coach O'Connell to call me in. Waiting doesn't take long, but before I make a step into his office, I am a nervous wreck.

"Come on in!"

"You sent for me, coach?" I ask quietly when I enter. He looks up from a pile of papers and I see my name written on the top one.

"Ah, miss Mayfield. Take a seat, please."

I gulp hard when I sit down on the other side of his desk. My hands are clammy and shaky from fear what could happen.

"Firstly…"  
"Sir, I would like to apologize for my behavior. I-I…"  
"Can you please shut your mouth and listen to what I have to say?" he asks calmly, but his eyes are stern. My mouth instantly zips and I nod my head in agreement.

"Great. Listen, I know our team needs a new captain. But…that's not why I called you in. You know the Winter Olympics are coming soon, right?"  
"In February. But right now it's only…"  
"In twelve months. I know this are our off-season practices and those girls shortened their vacations to be back here, but that's not the point. The point is, this is men's team…"  
I nod slowly, still wondering where all this is going. I mean, what does the men's team has to do with me? I am only a twenty-year-old student of Brown University with only wish to succeed as a hockey player.

"Kimberly, even though it's men's team…would you like to try your luck out there?"  
"Out where? In the NHL?"

"No. As a part of the Olympic Team."

"Excuse me? Are we talking about US National Olympic Hockey team?"  
"Yes. I've seen you handle a puck better then many guys. You have a great vision on the ice and with few girls you've had the chemistry on the ice since the day one."  
"But, coach. I am a girl."

"I am aware of that, but the way you play…you deserve something bigger. So, you want me to keep you informed?"

"Yes. Yes, please, coach. I would love that."

"Great. And my intention is to get you to the tryouts in August. That means you will not get rid of playing during holidays. So you better cancel all your plans."

I stand up and smile at our coach: "Thank you, coach O'Connell. Thank you for believing in me. And not throwing me off the team for my attitude."  
"Oh, and about that. I hope you know I won't give you the captain title. I know how much you wanted that, but you've proved you are not ripe for becoming a team leader."

"I know, coach. I think Lauren should be the captain. Not only she wants that more than anything, she is capable of leading us. And we respect her."

"I will remember your words, Kimberly. And you remember mine. You can make it at the tryouts."

As soon as the door close, I throw up my fists in the air, silently celebrating the praise I've just been given. Finally, someone saw what a girl from a dysfunctional family could do, if only she believes.

"Yes!" I silently squeal and run to our locker room to finally get out of this sweaty gear. When the door open, I realize Alice is still there, waiting for me, apparently.

"Ali?"  
"Kim, is everything all right? Did he throw you out? What happened?"

"Everything's just fine. He…uh, he just needed to talk to me about my behavior. And I had to promise I'd try to work on it. I am still on the team, you are not getting rid of me this early."

She laughs and pulls me into a hug. And she also quickly pushes me away: "Ew, you are all sweaty! Get out of your gear and take a shower, I can wait."

"I'll be ready in ten, okay? What do you think about post-practice milkshake?"

"You can really read my mind. Just hurry up!"

While rinsing sweat off my body and off my hair, only one thing crosses my mind. _How would anyone expect that a loud girl with sharp tongue would be good enough to be asked to try her luck as one of the players for the Team USA at the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid in 1980?_


	3. Chapter 2: Keeping It Secret

**CHAPTER 2: KEEPING IT SECRET**

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

A part of me wants everyone to know I will be trying my luck and try to make the Olympic Team in few months, but the other, smarter part of me, tells me to keep my mouth zipped. After all, last thing I need is a bunch of jealous teammates and possibly pissed off roommate. But keeping it secret is hard, especially when everyone can see that different, excited side of me I've been carefully hiding all those years.

A week later my head is still high above the clouds and I think it's starting to drive Ali a little nuts.

"Can you please stop smiling like a tard?"

"I am sorry, Ali. But I can't."

"Jeesh, who are you crushing on now?"

I look at her with my brows raised: "Again? What do you mean by that?"

She starts counting my "crushes" on fingers of her right hand, nearly blinding me with a purity ring she's been wearing since the day I know her.

"Let's see. We've had Simon…."  
"A summer crush doesn't count!"  
"It does if you got to 1st base with him!"

I smack her arm: "Not everyone has to know that, so keep it quiet, okay?"

She continues in a quiet tone: "Then we have Alec…"  
"Show me one girl who isn't crushing on Alec here. I dare you. Even you nearly fainted when he smiled at you."

'That's not the point! And then we have Nick and Jason…"  
"Nick. Jason is a hoser. "

"Doesn't matter. And let's not forget that exchange student, what's his name again?"

"Valeri," I answer and blush slightly at the mention of a handsome and quiet Russian.

"Yeah, him. That's four crushes in two years?"

"That's not a lot, Ali…"

The bell rings and interrupts our conversation. When our professor, Mrs. Monaghan walks in, the entire class sinks into a deafening silence. Mrs. Monaghan has been teaching here for more than fifty years, she is about eighty years old, but scarier than majority of our professors. And she knows that. Plus, her classes are the only ones where no one dares to chat. She may be old, but she has a sight of an eagle and great hearing.

"Good morning, class. Put away your notebooks, I prepared an exam to see how much you've been studying during the break."

I exchange a scared look with Alice and take a deep breath. This is not okay, I haven't even open a notebook and I honestly have no idea what is this class about. Sure, I am taking notes, but that doesn't mean I understand a damn.

"Know anything?" Alice whispers to me and I only shake my head in response. Leaning closer to her, I whisper: "What about you?"

"Do I look like? I have no…"  
"Roy and Mayfield!"

Here we are again, being called by surnames. The last thing you want hear from your professors (or coach) is your surname.

"Sorry, Mrs. Monaghan," Ali and I say in unison. She looks at us once again with her eyes squinted, which makes Ali slightly move back on her chair, before turning back to papers on her table. The silence in the class is driving me insane, everyone is waiting for Mrs. Monaghan to give us tests. She suddenly calls out: "Mayfield!"

Every single glance in a class is now focused on me, including Ali's blue eyes, which I have a feeling are glaring daggers in my soul.

"Y-Yes, Mrs. Monaghan?"

Surprisingly, her thin lips are curved into an almost invisible smile when she signalizes me to come closer. Exchanging one final look with Ali, I loudly push my chair away from the table and approach Mrs. Monaghan's desk. I feel curious gazes burning into my back when she looks up at me: "Coach O'Connell asked me to give you this."

She hands me a folded piece of paper and adds: "You better read it during the break."

"Thank you, Mrs. Monaghan," I take the paper and smile lightly to our professor before heading back to my desk. I slip on the chair and dig the paper deep into my pencil case, away from curious gazes of my schoolmates. Ali leans to me: "What do you think was so urgent?"

Now it is a perfect time to tell her about your conversation with coach O'Connell, but my mouth remain sealed for, to me, completely unknown reason. I know we are supposed to be best friends and room mates, but it seems like I can't tell her that, that I could ruin our friendship.

"Don't know. Maybe he's decided he has to punish me for talking back to him…"

"But you said…"  
"I know what I said. I don't know, Ali, I really don't."

Damn it, I feel bad for lying to her. But really, I don't want to discuss that with her, especially not now. Not in the middle of the class.

"Okay, class, calm down," Mrs. Monaghan calls out completely unnecessarily since the entire class is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Fifty minutes later the class is done and so am I, probably. At least I will be when I get the results of a test.

"How did it go?" I ask Ali, who just looks at me with tired eyes: "Can we not?

"That bad, huh? Don't worry, we are on the same boat here."

She chuckles quietly before asking: "So, are you going to read what coach O has to say?"  
"Yeah… but I will do it in the dorm, not here."  
"Oh, come on! Why not? Could be about today's practice…"

"I am sure it isn't. Come on, I don't wanna be tardy for English Literature Class."

"And I have some tutoring to do. See you later?"  
"Sure thing," I smile and hug her before heading the other way towards my English Literature Class. I slip behind my desk and pull out my notebook, when someone clears its throat above me. I look up and see Alec grinning above me: "So when will you tell Alice your little secret?"  
"What secret? What are you talking about?"

He sits down next to me and flashes me that innocent smile which has been driving girls at the university insane. His fingertips tap together repeatedly before he answers: "I've over heard coach O'Connell talk to our coach about you. And trying to get you to the Olympic Team. Hmmm?"

I quickly look around the classroom, which is filling up slowly and notice Lauren, Michelle and Andrea, three of my teammates walk in. They notice me and give me a small wave, but Lauren is the only one, who lifts her thumbs when she notices Alec sitting next to me.

"Good job," she mouths and winks before she joins Mich and Andy.

"You must tell no one. Please, Alec. It must remain a secret."

He leans closer to me: "I will try to keep it a secret, but it's so exciting. Just…correct me if I am wrong… isn't that so that women's hockey is not a part of the Olympics?"  
"Yeah, it's not."

"So which sport will you participate in? Are you secretly a figure skater?" he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to make a joke. It does make me crack a chuckle, but nothing more: "Nope. Hockey. Really, Alec, I don't want to talk about it. Not now."

"How will you play hoc- Wait, you mean you'll try and make it to the men's team?"

"Keep your voice down!"

An uneasy sensation flashes through my bones as me get the feeling few of my schoolmates try to eavesdrop.

"You are seriously going to try playing for men's team?"  
"Alec, you must tell no one. Please, at least for now."

He ruffles his curly black hair with a deep sigh of frustration: "I don't get it. It's a huge honor to be even considered as one of the players. Why you don't want to tell anyone?"

"I want, just…I don't want other girls to hate me or anything…"

His rough hands grab mine and I look at him. His brown eyes are glimmering slightly: "Listen to me carefully. They are your teammates. If they will hate you for being a great player, they don't deserve sharing the ice with you. Not just the ice, they don't deserve sharing the locker room and all of the successes."

Stunned by his words of support, which I really didn't expect from him, I don't answer. When I open my mouth, my tongue becomes numb and I just stare at him wordlessly.

"And listen, would you like to join our practice once or twice? Just to experience how real college hockey is supposed to be played?"  
"A-Are you serious? I'd love to…"  
"Great! Talk to you after class," he gets up and gives me a huge smile before turning around and going to his desk. I watch him as he does that and I notice him giving a high five to one of his teammates.

As soon as I enter the cafeteria, half of my team surrounds you. "Lauren said Alec spoke to you? What it was about?" Jenny Lewis, a freshman defense player, asks me as soon as she gets a chance.

 _Now it's the right time to tell them_ I think to myself and open my mouth, but instead of telling them I might be playing for the Olympic team I simply say: "He invited me to join them on their practice once…"  
"I hope you accepted!" Susan Parker, another player from freshman year, squeals and looks at the others with excited spark in her eyes.

"Maybe I will…"

"Kim, you should. You are a hell of a great player and practicing with them would not hurt you," Lauren touches my shoulder and flashes me a wide grin. I smile back and nervously tuck of hair behind my ear.

"Lauren… I have to tell you something. Can you please follow me?"  
"Is everything okay?"  
"Yeah… I think. I just want to talk with you about something."

"Uh, okay. But can it wait until after the lunch?"

"It can… Lauren, I'd rather tell you after the practice. If that's okay with you?"  
"You are freaking me out and it doesn't sound like nothing is wrong."

I pinch bridge of my nose and assure her: "I swear everything is fine. See you later at the practice, okay? See you later, girls."

The rest of the day flies by quickly and annoyingly slow at the same time. Hiding secret before your teammates and your friend is not the everyday thing to do. When the hour of a practice rolls around, I am a nervous wreck, mostly because I'll have to bite into a sour apple and talk to Lauren.

Even girls who have just joined us and we don't know each other well yet notice I am not myself. Usually loud on and off the ice, but today I barely speak to anyone.

"What is wrong with you, Kim?" Alice asks worriedly after I hit the boards for the zillionth time during doing a simple exercise.

"Nothing… Really, Ali, I am fine…" I shut up mid-sentence when coach's and mine gaze meet.

"Mayfield, what are you doing? Put your head in a game!" he smacks his stick against the ice and small pieces of ice fly up in the air.

"Yes, coach. Ali, I am fine, I swear."

But my nerves are a mess and after I nearly fall over the boards, Lauren, as a future captain of our team, asks coach to let her and me have a word in the locker room. As soon as the door close, she looks directly at me: "Okay, Kimberly, what is wrong with you today? You've been weird for the entire day."

"Lauren, I hope you won't hate me…"  
"Does it have to do anything with Mike?"

Mike is her boyfriend and they have been together for ages. The only thing she is really possessive of is he. And there's no doubt she would kill me if I tried something with him.

"Nothing. Why? Is there something wrong?"

She sits down next to me and buries her face in her palms, soft whimpers escaping her lips. A second passes before I awkwardly pat her back: "What is wrong, Lauren?"

"I t-think he might be cheating on me…with one of the girls from the t-team. A-And I thought it m-might be y-you."  
"I'd never do that to you. Or to anyone else. I hope you know that."

"I know…I am sorry."  
"I'd be the same, no worries. Lauren…I can trust you, right?"

"Sure. What's wrong?" she wipes tears off her cheeks and looks at me. Her selflessness is exactly why she will make a great captain, she was willing to forget her personal troubles to face mine.

"So, uh, coach O suggested me to maybe challenge myself and…and try my luck at the Olympic tryouts…for men's hockey team."

"You mean…Olympics in Lake Placid in twelve months?"

"Yes… But you must tell no one. Please, at least for a while."  
"Kim, that's great! I am so happy for you! And of course I won't tell anyone."  
"Thanks, but… are you not mad?"  
"Why should I be? This is a great opportunity and you are an extremely talented player."

Words, she is saying, are exactly the right words of support, but I think I can see in her eyes she is wondering one thing.

 _How the hell did Kimberly Mayfield get a chance like that? Why her and no one else?_


	4. Chapter 3: Welcome to Colorado

**CHAPTER 3: WELCOME TO COLORADO**

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

Coach O kept his promise and showed no mercy. Even though my legs were sore and there were days when I couldn't even move out of my bed, I am thankful.

The feeling of thankfulness grows even bigger inside of me when I step out of a bus and see countless men gathering in front of an ice arena in Colorado.

"Need some help with that?" the bus driver yells from his seat, referring to my big-ass hockey bag and a duffel bag.

"I can handle it, thank you very much!" I answer and grab my stick before it falls.

When the bus drives away, I realize this is it. I really left my home, my university and my team to try my luck in Colorado, even though I have a feeling I stand no chance.

Taking a deep breath, I force my legs to make a step forward, closer to the arena. And the fear I am feeling cannot be described. What was I thinking? Those are grown up man, who probably played countless games, spent hours and hours in gyms and worked out. What am I compared to them? Sure, I do work out regularly, but their structure is something completely different than mine. Lost in my thoughts, I bump into one of the players and nearly fall back.

"Hey, watch out, man!"  
"Uh, I am sorry," I start backing up, when he speaks up: "Wait a second. You don't sound like a dude."

I pull the hood off my head and smile at the stranger: "Because I am not."

He takes a step back, clearly in shock: "What is a girl doing on the tryouts for the Olympic Team?"

"The same thing like the rest of you. Trying my luck."

"Whoa, you are brave," he smiles and moves his stick from one hand to another and stretches his right arm: "Neal Broten,. And you are?"

"Kimberly Mayfield. Nice to meet you, Neal."  
"Same back to you. So, Neal, where do you play?"

"University of Minnesota. What about you?"  
"Ah, Golden Gophers? I study at Brown University."

"That's cool! How did you find out about the try outs?"  
"My coach back at the University told me about them. Actually, he offered me this opportunity. And you?"  
"Well, Brooks is also a coach back at the U, so…"  
"So you have a bit of advantage here?"

"Naah, not when it comes to Brooks. He never makes differences. Uh, what position do you play?"  
"Left wing. Let me guess, you are also a forward?"

"How did you guess? I am center, actually."  
"Lucky guess," I laugh, but my laughter dies as soon as we enter the arena. The place is full of hopeful young hockey players, waiting to be called and chatting. I've never felt more like a black sheep than right now.

"Hey, Strobel!" Neal next to me calls someone's name and turns to me: "Come on, follow me."

"Well, I don't really know anyone so… okay," I follow him to the area where a bunch of guys, wearing at least one piece of clothing with the M, is. Neal gently pulls me to his side and smiles: "Guys, this is Kimberly from Brown University."  
"Broten, you got a girl," one of them laughs and smiles at you: "Eric Strobel."

"Kimberly Mayfield. And Neal and I have just met few minutes ago. You could ask differently if I am single," I wink and chuckle at Eric whose face is now dark red. The rest of his friends start laughing at him and one of them pats my back: "Got him good. Steve Janazsak, goalie."

"Hi. I am Kimberly. Left-winger. Nice to meet you."

"Brown University, uh?"

"Yeah. I guess you are a Gopher?"

"From head to toe. What are you doing here, if you don't mind?"

With a deep sigh, I start explaining: "Well, my coach at the university thought I am good enough to try and make the team. Before you remind me, I know this is men's team, but I said I'd try…"  
"I must say you are brave. Have you signed in already?"

"Nope. Where do I do that?"

He points his finger in the direction of a sign-in table, where a group of men is gathered, all of them holding papers in his hands: "Right over there. And they'll give you more directions."  
"Thank you very much," I thank him with a wide smile and pull Neal's sleeve: "You comin'?"

"Where?" he turns to me and leans his head on the side. I point at the table: "We have to sign in…"  
"Oh, I'll go there later. Just a minute."

"Fine," I sigh and head there on my own. Since my hoodie is like my shield, as soon as I am away from the guys from University of Minnesota, I cover myself with a hood. I squeeze myself through the mass of bodies and whisper quietly: "Kimberly Mayfield, 19, Brown University."

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

First thing I notice when I walk into the Colorado Arena, where the tryouts are taking place, is a bunch of Minnesotan players. From University of Minnesota and University of Minnesota- Duluth. Great. Someone really thinks that's funny. I huff as I walk past a few of them and look around.

"O'Callahan!" I hear someone call my name and turn around. A grin appears on my face: "Dave Silk. How are you, man?"

"Can't complain. What about you? Did you see that, how many guys from Minnesota is here?"  
"Someone has a great sense of humor. Or is just a sadist. This will get interesting."

"Who are you planning to beat?"

I look at my friend and teammate and grin slyly: "Who said anything about beating?"  
"You are Jack O'Callahan, the Charlestown Killer, the guy who always drops his gloves first. Logic."  
"Maybe I've changed."  
"Yes, for sure. If you changed, I am married," Silky laughs and slaps my shoulder. I let my bag slide off my shoulder and place my stick right onto it: "Anyone else from BU here?"  
"I've heard Eruzione was called from Toledo. But haven't seen him yet."  
"Rizzo will be here?

"Yeah. But I wanna know how is that possible?"

"He is a good player, but I doubt he'd make the final roster."  
Speaking of Mike Eruzione…"OC! Silky!"

We both turn around and see twenty-four-year-old from Winthrop, Mass., waving at us.

"Rizzo!" I return him a wave and take a closer look of him when he joins us. We were teammates during my first year and back then he was just like any other college hockey player. But now he is a player, who plays for IHL's Toledo Goaldiggers, minor professional hockey club in Toledo, Ohio.

"Hello, Rizz," Silky smiles and shakes his hand. Rizzo smiles at both of us: "Excited to be here?"  
"Lightly said. What about you, OC?"  
"Eh," I smile and continue, "What is the worst thing that could happen? Not making the team?"

Words I say are utterly opposite from what I really feel. I am nervous and the thought of not being picked makes my heart beat go insane. Words can't describe how much I want to play at the Olympic games, to show Boston has great players.

"You are joking right now, aren't you?"

"No, Silky, really. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You two guys still have some good years to play…"  
"What are you talking about? You are twenty-four."

"I am thinking of hanging the skates for good."

His words shock me, I admit. I've never thought he'd say that. From what I heard during my college years, he was a great player and even from my own experiences from sharing the locker room with him I can tell he can play explosive game if he wants to.

"But that doesn't matter now. We are here and we will try to show our best. Have you two signed in already?"

"I have. OC?"

"Nah, not yet. You, Rizzo?"  
"Yeah, I have. You better hurry up, OC."

With a slight roll of my eyes, I approach the desk and smile: "Jack O'Callahan, 21, Boston University."

Cutie, who works there passes me my accreditation and says without a single emotion: "Go over there, you'll get your number and a towel."

"Can I get your number?" I try again and flash her the flirtiest smile. She looks up at me and sighs: "Get lost, not my type."

I shake my head, trying to comprehend what has just happened, before I hear someone sigh behind my back: "Can you move? Please?"

I look down and see someone with a hood over his head. Pretty small, also. I move away and before I join Silky and Rizzo, I hear him say: "Kimberly Mayfield, 19, Brown University."

Kimberly? What kind of name is that? I take a quick glimpse at a petite figure and it hits me. "He" is not a dude, it's a girl!

Her hood slips off her head and long, thick brown hair cover her face. Shaking my head in disbelief, I go back to Rizzo and Silky, who are now in a company of another players from Boston, Ralph Cox, who is one of the players from University of New Hampshire.

"If isn't that Jack O'Callahan!" Coxy laughs and pats my back.

"If isn't that Ralph Cox! How are you, man?"

"Can't complain. What about you?"  
"Same here. Listen, guys, would you believe me if I told you there is a girl signed in for the tryouts?"

"No," they say at the same time. Silky continues: "Are you sure she is here for the tryouts? She could be one of the players' girlfriend?"

I point my finger at her: "A hockey bag, hanging from her shoulder and a stick? I don't think so. And I've just heard her sign in. She stood right behind me."

"Did you take a good look of her?" Silk smirks and I laugh at his question: "Why are you even asking? She's hot, I am telling you."

"Well…ask her if she needs help or something?" he suggests, his smirk bigger and bigger with every second passing.

 _She'll probably not make it, so why not,_ I think for my self and my lips curve into a confident cocky smile as I approach her. She has a bit of troubles with holding her bag, stick, towel and her number, so I try that approach: "Hey, hottie, need some help with your things?"

"No, thank you, I am fine," she rejects politely, looking in her backpack and apparently looking for something.

"You seem kinda lost. Let me help you."

She looks up at me, her brown-green eyes locking with mine blue ones and she repeats: "I am fine, thank you. I can handle it myself."

"Aw, it's nothing wrong with admitting you have a problem with all those things occupying your pretty hands, sweetie," I mock. Her eyes darken and she nearly spits: "You should get lost."

If a guy said that, I'd hit him with no hesitation. My palm starts feeling oddly tickly and I brawl it in a fist, a weak attempt to keep myself under control and not hit her.

"What did you say?" I ask, trying to sound as calm as possible, but the blood in my veins is close to the breaking point.

"I said you are the one who should get lost," she pushes past me and leaves me with my anger. Before joining the rest of Bostonians, I take a deep breath and try to comprehend what has just happened.

"Didn't go as planned?" Silky asks when I get to them.

"She told me to get lost."

Silk's eyes widen in shock, Rizzo's mouth are open wide while Coxy and Christoff just stare at me: "And you didn't hit her?"

"I was close. But I've never hit a girl. Has that really just happened to me?"

"Apparently did. And how does it feel being rejected?" Christoff grins and I glare daggers at him: "Don't push it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"She is gonna pay for it. I just hope she makes the team and I will make her life a living hell. She's gonna wish she'd never showed up here, that's what I promise, boys."


	5. Chapter 4: The Tryouts

**CHAPTER 4: THE TRYOUTS**

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

Still shocked and mad from the encounter with a girl who I appear to be stuck here with for at least a week, I walk down the corridor when I see one of the familiar guys looking at the panel.

"Jimmy Craig."

"Hey, Jack."

"What's up, ya sieve?"

"How's going?"

"Good," I stop next to Jimmy and look at the roster when he speaks up: "Any reason why Joey Mullen's not here?"

"Yeah, about 30,000 of them," my arms cross on my chest as I respond "all sitting on his New York bank account."  
Tall brown-haired goalie seems honestly surprised at the amount of money: "30,000 dollars? He got a $30,000 signing bonus?"

"Seems like it. Pretty crazy, isn't it?"  
"Crazy indeed."

"How's it lookin'?"

With a grin on his face, he answers while on his way to the locker room: "A lot of guys from Minnesota and Boston?"

I huff and smile a bit. Someone has to have a great sense of humor or a wish to see a bloodbath, what these tryouts will probably turn out to be. Oh, and let's not forget a chick playing as well.

"Yeah, like that's gonna work."

Later, in the locker room, I pull on my pants and reach for a shoulder pad when someone pats my shoulder.

"Yes?" I turn around and see a guy wearing Bowling Green jersey. He stretches his arm: " You are Jack O'Callahan, right? One of the most fearsome guys at the BU?"  
"Well…I am the one to drop the gloves, yeah. And you are Kenneth Morrow, right? The star defenseman of Bowling Green? I've heard of you."

"Yeah, that's me. Do you know any of these guys?"  
"Guys from Boston. And I know names of few of the Minnesota players."  
"Ah, the great rivalry?"

Chuckling, I pull on shoulder pads and BU jersey over it: "Yeah. I am telling you, this is gonna get interesting."

After few moments of silence, I ask him: "What about you? Anyone familiar?"

"Yeah, I know few of the guys. So, do you know what the coach is like?"

"Seen him on Minnesotan's bench. Seems like a dude who yells a lot. And a person who wants nothing but respect. We'll see how this will work out, how will he handle what Bostonians have for Minnesotans."

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

Right after the sign-in, I was taken away from the rest of the boys to a separate locker room. I lean my stick on the wall and slide my bag all the way across the floor to my stall. Exactly when I am about to change into my gear, someone knocks on the door: "Miss Mayfield, may I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure thing."

The door open and reveal one of the coaches: "I am Craig Patrick, Herb's assistant coach and I would like the check whether everything's okay?"  
"Yes, sir, everything is fine. I would like to thank you for giving me a separate locker room."

"It was a no problem, but I am afraid if you make the team, you'll have to share the locker room with the guys. In case there will be no free locker rooms, of course."  
"I understand, sir."  
"Please, call me Coach Patrick, don't call me sir."  
"Okay, si- Coach Patrick."

"And one more thing, Herb ordered me to ask you whether you are serious about the tryouts?"

"Yes, I am serious. I would like to prove myself."  
"Alright then. See you after the tryouts."  
And with that he leaves, leaving me to get changed. About fifteen minutes later I am already on the ice and I've never been more nervous in my entire life. Not only I barely know anyone, but I am also the only girl.

"Hey, look at you. Nice jersey," someone chuckles behind my back, making me turn around.

"Neal. Thought you gave up and went home."  
"Please, I'd never do that. Well, how's everything going?"  
"I-I don't know. It's like I am only now realizing this is all true…I am kinda nervous."  
"Trust me, we all are. But you must be hell of a good player to be called here and I believe you can make it."  
"Thanks. So, I guess it's time to wish you a good luck, right?"  
"Good luck to you too," he smiles and nudges my sides with the end of his stick. I chuckle a bit and my gaze slips across the ice when my eyes meet with eyes of that blonde guy I told earlier to get lost. I tighten my grip around the stick and squint my eyes, him doing the same thing. Then a smug grin draws on his lips, which turns into an evil smirk into a next second. Well, I guess that really hurt his ego…

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

I see her glaring at me from the other side of the ice and I glare right back at her. My legs might be on the ice, but there is only one thing on my mind is, how will I get my revenge. But too bad I can't do much here, I can only hope she will make the team so I can get my payback.

I join the group of guys from Boston and pour my anger into slap shots, which I take continuously and with no mercy for the goalie.

"Hey, what did the pucks do to you?" Silky laughs and take a shot after I do. I turn to look at him, making sure the others are busy shooting pucks or doing drills or skating.

"It pisses me off I can't do a damn thing during the tryouts and I can only hope that chick will make the team."

"You mean…what's her name again? From Brown University?"  
"Yeah, her. It'd be a dumb idea to, ya know, try to beat her up with all those coaches around when those tryouts are our tickets to the Olympics."

"What makes you think she'd make it? She is a girl after all."

"Just look at her."

We both take a quick glimpse at the Brown girl, who works with the group of Minnesotans. She really know what she's doing, I give her that. She is fast, moves stick so fast I can barely see what she's doing and apparently, has a great vision on the ice.

"Well… she does have lots of potential… Guess you'll see her some more," Silky grins and gets ready for another round of shooting.

Surprisingly, I cannot get the image of her playing out of my head. And that pisses me off even more. I, Jack O'Callahan, did not sign up for this. I didn't come all the way to Colorado to have my mind occupied with some girl playing hockey.

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

Since Minnesotans guys were the first I met, I join them on their spot of the ice. One of the older players, if not the oldest, William "Buzz" Schneider, seems to have practically adopted me. But the first thing I learn about him is that he's just gotten married with his long-term girlfriend.

"How long have you been married then?"  
"It will be…four months next week," he smiles lightly, but it seems he does really miss her.

"Aww, so the ink hasn't dried yet?"  
"Not quite yet. What about you, did you leave a guy behind?"  
"Eh, nope. I am not really into that. So far, school is my priority."  
Okay, no one needs to know about my summer romances or school crushes, especially not a guy who has just tied a knot.

"But that doesn't mean I do not notice guys," I continue with a grin, which grows wider when one of the guys drapes his arm around me: "Well that's good news. Mike Ramsey."

"Kimberly. Nice to meet you, Ramsey, but nope, not interested. Sorry."

He fakes a pout and looks at me with big eyes: "Why not?"  
"Because I don't even know you. Don't look at me like that, Mike," I chuckle and smack his pads with a stick. He immediately stops pouting and returns me a smack.

"Hey, you two, there will be plenty of time for that later! If you make the final roster, so focus on the game, yeah?" Buzzy laughs and rolls his eyes. It must be entertaining for him to see younger players act childish while he is grown-up enough to be already married.

"Yes, sir," I salute and earn chuckle from few of the boys.

"Hey, Kim, that guy in Boston jersey keeps glaring daggers at you," Buzz tells me after some time of doing the drills.

"Oh, yeah, he does? Well, let me give him something to see then," I mumble and start doing exercises for puck handling. I enjoy the sound of cold rubber sliding across the ice, wood smacking against it and the ice. I enjoy in the familiar muscle pain and feeling of sweaty drops starting to gather on my forehead. Let him stare, guess he has never seen anything like that before.

When I finish the drill, I look at his direction only to notice he is not looking anymore. And against my own will, a tiny wave of sadness flashes through my body.

I've never given that much about some annoying guy's attention, but I guess air in this arena is colder and it must've frozen my mind for a bit. Jack O'Callahan is someone I should not pay attention to. Not now, not ever. End of story.


	6. Chapter 5: Meet the Team

**CHAPTER 5: MEET THE TEAM**

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

A week later we are all called in the arena and seated on the seats. During this week, my relationship with Minnesotans has progressed and now I can say they are like my brothers. The one I spend the most of the time talking to, is no one else than Neal.

"Who do you think will be sent home? Neal asks me while we wait for coach Brooks to announce names on the roster. I quickly glance over the guys and lean to him.

"I hope O'Callahan will have to leave…"

"Hate to tell you that, but he is a great player. And I really doubt he'd be thrown off the roster."

"But he is an asshole!"  
"A very talented asshole, you must give him that."  
Unwillingly, I admit he is right. Jack is hell of a good player and he knows what he is doing on the ice. Not to mention, from what I had a chance to see during this one-week tryouts, he is willing to fight for his teammate. Probably coaches won't care how much of an asshole he is, the only thing that will matter is his ability to play, to control the puck, the game.

"I guess you are right. He is. But so are the other guys, what is so special about him?"

"Well, you did see him on the tryouts. He is fast and plays a great defense."

"But so do the others!" I exclaim a bit too loudly, making few of the guys turn around, including Jack.

Our gazes meet and his eyes remain locked with mine for a second too long before his lips curve into a smile with which he is promising me hell if I make the team. I furrow my eyebrows and return him a grin.

The chattering stops as soon as Coach Patrick and Doc walk in and stop beneath us. Coach Patrick takes a piece of paper in his hands and starts reading names.

"Hughes, Ross, Auge, Delich, Horsch, Strobel, Christoff, Morrow, Suter, Ramsey, Janaszak, Christian, Pavelich, Verchota, Baker, Harrington, Schneider, O'Callahan, McClanahan, Silk, Johnson, Craig, Cox, Eruzione. And that's the roster for now. The rest of you thanks for coming out."

I can feel Neal's hand on my shoulder and Jack's grin on me. Well…at least I tried. I didn't expect to make the team anyway…

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

A week passes and my desire to show that girl that she has nothing to do here is growing stronger and stronger. I don't care how good she is, and I am telling you, she moves puck so quick is hard to see it, she has nothing to do here.

I sit with the rest of guys from Boston University and chat loudly, but my mind is occupied with concerns of not making the team. Regardless what I said, I want this. Just like everybody else. What I said earlier about this not being important… guess I lied to myself in case I don't make it.

The entire room sinks in silence when Coach Patrick and our doc walk in, coach holding a piece of paper. When he is sure he has everyone's attention, he starts reading the names of the players off of it.

"Hughes, Ross, Auge, Delich, Horsch, Strobel, Christoff, Morrow, Suter, Ramsey, Janaszak, Christian, Pavelich, Verchota, Baker, Harrington, Schneider, O'Callahan, McClanahan, Silk, Johnson, Craig, Cox, Eruzione. And that's the roster for now. The rest of you thanks for coming out."

Huge burden falls of my shoulders as I hear my name being called. I really made the team and the next step is to stay on it. To make it to the Olympics. But her name isn't called. I look over to where she is sitting and I see one of the guys from Minnesota holding her shoulder. Part of me wanted her to make the team, just to get my revenge, but the biggest part of me never wanted a girl to join the team, no matter how good she is. I grin at her and turn away from her afterwards to congratulate the rest of the guys who made the team and accept congratulations from those who didn't. Once again I look at her and shrug my shoulders with a sly grin on my face, which fades when I see how broken she looks. That Broten guy has his arm around her shoulders, apparently trying to calm her down. Okay, I will admit, I feel sorry for her, she seems like she really wished this.

 _ **~NEAL'S POV~**_

Seeing her crying broke me even though I've known her barely for a week. It is obvious she wanted this bad and that makes it even worse. She buries her head in a crook of my neck, soft sobs escaping her lips, and I pull her closer.

"Come on, don't let this discourage you. You are an excellent player, but we are talking about playing against the best players. You are a hell of a great player, but that doesn't mean you can handle the pressure of playing men hockey."

"I-I really wanted this."

"I know you did. But you will come to our games, right?"  
"I will. I would never miss a game," she wipes tears off her cheeks and stands up to leave. In that moment Herb speaks from the top of the stands: ""Take a good look, gentlemen, cause they're the ones getting off easy. We're putting a few of you on reserve in case somebody gets injured or their game goes to hell. Final roster will have 20 names on it in seven months so more of you are going home. You give 99 percent, you make my job very, very easy. I'll be your coach, I won't be your friend. If you need one of those, take it up with Doc or Coach Patrick."

While talking he gets to the front row of the stands and looks up again: "And one more thing. Is Kimberly Mayfield still here?"

Her head jolts up and she wipes the remaining traces of tears: "I am here."

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

"And one more thing. Is Kimberly Mayfield still here?" Herb's voice rings through my ears and I lift my head up. Before answering, I wipe the traces of tears off my cheeks and say loudly: "I am here."  
"Thank god. You should've been on that roster. My bad."

With no further explanation, he puts down stack of papers and walks out of the arena. I look at Neal and whisper, still in shock: "I made the team, Neal. I am the first girl who has ever made it into men's national hockey team."  
"Almost on the team, just like the rest of us. Anyone of us can be sent home soon."

I playfully punch his arm, relieved by the fact I am one of the twenty-seven names on the current roster: "Aren't ya just a ray of sunshine?"

"I am being realistic here," he chuckles and drapes his arm around my shoulders once again, pulling me to his chest.

"Nope, you are being pessimistic," I laugh quietly. He chuckles quietly and unwraps his arm from around me: "A bit of both. Maybe. But congratulations, Kimberly."  
"Kim. I prefer being called Kim."

"So we will call you Kim."

All of us get up and go to coach Patrick and Doc, where we take a stack of paper, which form a test Herb made for us. On my way out, someone stops me. I turn around and see Buzzy smiling behind my back: : "Congratulations, Kim. Hey, would you like to join us tonight? We are thinking of going out and since you made the team…you should join us."

For a second I don't know what to say, no guy has ever asked me to hang out with him and his friends, especially if they knew each other from before.

"So, yes or no?"  
"I'd love to join you. Thanks, Buzzy. But are you sure you want me to join you?"  
"Of course! We are a team now and beside that, you are a great person to hang out with."

"Then I'd be glad to join you. Again, thanks for inviting me."

"No problem. We'll be leaving around eight o'clock…will you be ready by then?"

"Of course I'll be, getting ready doesn't take that much, ya know?"

Buzzy dares to look at me surprised: "I thought it takes ages."  
"Shut up," I laugh and punch his arm before turning my head just to see Jack staring at me. Again. Man, he really has a problem with me being here, doesn't he?

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

"And one more thing. Is Kimberly Mayfield still here?" Herb asks and my head jolts up as I look at him. Her quiet voice rings from behind my back and I switch my attention between her and Herb.

"I am here," she says loudly, but it's clear she was crying. The shakiness of her voice gave her away even if I didn't see her cry and sob into Broten's chest.

"Thank god. You should've been on that roster. My bad."

Great. So a chick really made the team. Let's see how she will be able to live with guys for the rest seven months…

"She actually made the team," Coxy leans down and whispers to my ear. I look up at him and grin: "She's gonna regret coming here. A girl has nothing to do on the tryouts for men's Olympic team, end of discussion."

"And that has absolutely nothing to do with her telling you to get lost a week ago?"

"That's the reason she's gonna regret it. I made my promise and I am sticking to it. No one has ever told me to get lost and got away with it."

Coxy rolls his eyes slightly: "Dude, she is a girl…"  
"So? She plays hockey with guys, she will have to deal with it."

"Ya really can't get over it? Hey, listen, wanna go out later? A little Boston hangout?"

"Yeah, sure, you know me. Always in the mood to go out. Boston hangout you say? We should ask Rizzo and Silky to join us."  
"Great idea. Let's ask them on our way out."

As soon as we step out of the building, the team separates. Minnesotans and the girl walk away, but I see her look at me once again. Mockingly, I give her thumbs up and continue glaring daggers at her until Schneider puts his arm around her shoulder, looks back and says something to her, making her look away from me.

"Oi, Jack!" Kenny Morrow waves as he walks out with another guy from Bowling Green, Mark Wells.

"Congratulations, Ken! And Mark, right? Congratulations to both of you."

"Jack O'Callahan, right?" Mark smiles and shakes my hand. With a small smile, I return him a handshake: "You guys going out tonight?"  
"Probably not. That was the most hard-working week of my life," Mark answers and looks at Ken: "What about you?"  
"Nah, I am going to my room and call few people to let them know I made the team."

"Including Judith?" Mark laughs and smacks his friend's arm. Ken notices my surprised gaze and explains: "My girlfriend. She has been supporting me all this time and I want to know her."

"How long have you been together?"

"Well, we met in a first year of University, but started dating about a year ago. What about you?"  
"Dating is not really my thing. Takes too much time."

"You'll change your mind when the right girls come around. Trust me. Hey, Jack, see you later."  
"Tomorrow at the practice?"  
"Tomorrow at the practice. Don't drink too much," Morrow winks and fixes his hockey bag before him and Mark walk away.

Soon after Coxy, Rizzo and Silky come out, all of them carrying those tests in their hands.

"How come you are already out? You are always the last one out of the locker room…"  
"Well, we didn't have to change, just take our bags and sticks. You three chatterboxes made a rocket science out of it."

"Hey, it's not our fault you are the grumpiest one of us," Silky rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, we talked with other guys a bit. Those guys from Minnesota are actually pretty cool."

"Did you really say that? Did- Did he really say that?" I ask Coxy and Silky.

"He did and it's true, they are nice guys."

"Seriously? Are you guys okay, did you hit your head? Those are our rivals and the girl hangs out with them."

"OC…we are not rivals anymore, we are the part of the same team now."  
"Yeah, right, as you say. Is Jimmy still in there?"

In the next moment Jimmy walks out, apparently in a deep conversation with the other goaltender, Steve Janaszak.

"Hey, Jimmy, over here!" Rizzo calls him and waves his hand. Jimmy stops and has few more words with Steve before they say their goodbyes and he joins us: "Congratulations, guys. Guess there will be few guys from the BU."  
"But did you see how many guys from Minnesota did he pick? Ya think he'd treat us differently?"  
"Highly doubt. He seems like a fair guy who makes no differences," Silk smiles lightly and shifts his bodyweight from one leg to another: "It's getting pretty cold. And late. When did you plan to meet? Eight o'clock? Seven o'clock?"  
"Maybe about seven? So we won't be out for too long, I don't want to have a hangover on a practice," Coxy chuckles and does the same thing like Silk did, shifts his bodyweight on one leg.

"Seven sounds great. OC?"  
"Let's make it seven. Oh, Silky, did you see, we are roommates."  
"Really? That's great, sharing a room with you sounds fun."  
"Oh, trust me, it is fun. So…at seven at the hotel entrance?"

"Sounds great. Come on, let's head back, my legs need a break."

All five of us head back to the hotel near Broadmoor World Arena where we spent the last week on the ice, chatting and discussing who could possibly make the final roster. Even though I don't say that out loud, I have a feeling Rizzo will be the one to get cut. I don't know why, but he just seemed like he didn't have his head in the game. Well, I hope he does make it so that girl can go home where she belongs in the first place.


	7. Chapter 6: Old Rivalries

CHAPTER 6 : OLD RIVALRIES

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

I meet guys from University of Minnesota and University of Minnesota Duluth in front of the hotel we are staying during the tryouts. It doesn't take long for me to realize joining those guys was a great choice. They are fun, outgoing people and even few of those, who aren't really the talkers, loosen up a bit and join the conversation. I try to talk with one of the guys form University of Minnesota-Duluth, Mark Pavelich, but he is one of the quiet ones. And I swear I have never met anyone who would talk as little as he did.

"So, how is UMD?" I ask him while waiting for few of the guys to show up.

"Just an ordinary University," he shrugs his shoulders and zips up his jacket. It's obvious he doesn't really like talking. Someone puts his hand on my shoulder and I turn around. A guy who patted my shoulder is John Harrington, also a student of University of Minnesota-Duluth, a really tall forward with huge smile, which never seems to disappear.

"Don't mind him, Pav doesn't talk a lot. Really, don't take it personally. Are you ready to go?"

"Sure thing. Uh, what do you guys usually do when you are out?"

John grins and I suspect what the answer could be. And I wasn't wrong.

"Just, ya know, normal things. Drink, chat, flirt with girls we will probably never have, stuff like that. Enjoy our time, to sum things up."

"Why did I even ask, I should've known?"  
"What do you do when you go out?"

"I don't often go out…but when my teammates and I go out, we normally drink, dance, check cute guys out and maybe hook up with them, gossip about other girls and guys from our school…pretty normal things, I must say."

"And then you judge us?" he grins and drapes arm around me "Let's go while the night is still young."

And now I am here with guys from Minnesota. Thanks to them, no guy dares to approach me. Well, about ten well-built hockey players surround me and I am sure no guy at the right mind would be brave enough to try and get in their middle. Not that I am complaining, Schneider and Dave Christian turn out to be a great company. And Verchota keeps my glass full. If I started the evening with a beer, I continue it with glasses of water and juice since I don't want to spend my first practice holding back vomit or with dizzy head. Tried it several times and trust me, that is not even remotely fun. Especially with coach giving remarks all the time. Plus, this is an Olympic Team and going by the stories of the guys who either played or play for Brooks, coach doesn't want to have any players with hangover on his team.

"So why do you drink that much?" I yell over loud music to John, who apparently doesn't hear me, so I try again. This time I try to get his attention by pulling a sleeve of his shirt.

"Yes?"  
"Why do you drink so much?"

He shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip before setting his glass down and heading over to the table where some blonde girls sit.

"So,Dave , how long have you been playing? And where" I turn to Davey, which caught my attention during the tryouts because of his amazing haircut. He looks up from his test and thinks for a bit: "For so long I don't really remember when I started playing. What about you? And I play for University of North Dakota. And if I am not mistaken, you play for…Brown, right?"  
"Yeah, who told you that?"

He ruffles his hair: "Well, you are a girl…of course everyone talks of a wonder girl who made the team."

I feel blush creeping up my cheeks at his words. I should've expected something like that, but…still, it feels odd knowing the guys have been probably talking about the only girl on the team.

"Uh, that's an honor, I guess…"  
"Don't worry, majority of us likes you and considers you as one of us."

Raising my brow, I take a sip of my drink: "Majority of you?"

"Well, some of the guys have some issues with a girl being their teammate. Really, don't bother, they'll have to get over it eventually."

 _Jack O'Callahan is surely one of them_ I think to myself and smile at Dave: "Thanks, Dave. How come you are not chasing girls around?"

He lifts papers in the air: "Test first, girls later. How's your test going?"

"I finished it while waiting for you guys to get ready. It wasn't that hard, really?"  
"What are you, some kind of a genius?"

"No, not really, I just like to study…and the test really got me thinking."  
"Can you do mine as well?" he asks with a goofy and hopeful grin. I shake my head in response: "Nope, that's what you have to do on your own."

"Oh, come on! I want to have some fun, not work on some test."  
"Sorry, Davey, I am not solving your test, but I can try and help you, okay?"  
"You would do that?"  
"Sure thing."

I move my chair next to him and tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear before looking at the questions.

Soon after we start working on his test, John comes back and I grin up at him: "Your flirting was unsuccessful?"  
"We could say. Oh, you two working on the test?"

"Yeah, have you finished yours?"  
He plops down next to me and throws papers on the table: "How does it look to you?"

"Like you are not even close to finishing the test. Come on, join us."

We are halfway through the test when I hear someone yell: "Hey, Rizzo!" I turn over my shoulder and see Rob McClanahan and Mark Johnson walk into a bar. Soon after their entrance Rob high-fives the guys and playfully smacks back of my head: "Good to see ya here, Kim. How's going?"  
"Good, how are you guys?"

"Can't complain, really," Mark smiles and takes the seat across mine. "Except for this test…"

"You haven't done it yet?"

Now I am honestly surprised how much they don't like to take tests. It's not like it is a school paper, looks more like of a psychological test Herb had us all taken to see how far can he go with practices.

"No. Have you?"  
"Well, yeah, I did. Come on, guys, no one has done it yet?"

Buzz lifts stack of papers in the air and leans back on his chair: "Just finished."

"No one except Buzzy?"

"Hey, what can I say, we thought we came here to play hockey," Verchota explains and empties his glass in three long chugs. "Okay, guys, I will finish this test later, right now, I need some time off."

With that he leaves the table and soon he disappears in the crowd.

"He always like that?" I ask the other guys and roll my eyes slightly. John takes a chug of his beer: "Most of the time. He is not the only one though…"  
"I can see that. Okay, Dave and Bah, did you finish?"  
Both guys hand me their finished tests with huge grins: "Thank you for your help, Kim."

"Anytime. Uh, guys, thank you for taking me with you, but I will be going now. I need some sleep."

"Awww, you need your beauty sleep?" Dave laughs, earning a smack on the back of his head from me.

"No, Davey-boy, I have to rest because I don't want to be passed out on tomorrow's practice. So I guess I will see you party animals tomorrow at the practice," I take my jacket off my chair and put it on.

"You need someone to walk you back?" Johnson sounds concerned and starts getting up from his chair. I gently push him back: "No, thanks. I will be just fine. Thanks again, Mark."

Just before I step out, I see guys from Boston sitting separately and I wave at the only guy I've talked so far, David Silk. With a small smile he waves goodbye. What I don't notice, is Jack's death stare.

The cold air outside hits me like a lightening and I wrap myself tighter into a jacket while walking down the empty streets to our hotel. The only thing I do when I get back to my room safely, is fall on my bed fully clothed and fall asleep immediately.

~Jack's POV~

If anyone expected guys from Boston to hang out with Minnesotans…well, he was wrong. Guys from Minnesota are on the other side of the bar, doing exactly the same thing as we do- taking tests Herb gave us.

"You get stopped by a policeman, but you're not at fault. Do you state your disagreement right away?" Silky read the question and flips through pages with shocked expression on his face before looking up: 'He's got 300 of these things."

Rizzo, being the reasonable and oldest one, smiles and gestures: "It's just a test, Silky. You've taken one or two before."

Silky looks at his older teammate: "Not to play hockey, I haven't."

That's when Cox has to become his goofy self again: "Can you even read, Silky?"

With a tiny grin on his face, my Boston buddy answers, making us all crack a smile or a laugh: "I try." Even I can't keep a straight face, even though the number of questions I have to ask should make me cry, not laugh. Everything changes when someone calls Rizzo's name and we all look at the direction of the sound. McClanahan. With that smug smile he continues: "What's going on?"

As Rizzo smiles and greets him with a raise of his hand, I huff loudly and stare after him and Johnson, who stop at the Minnesota table. Coxy turns around, following the direction I was looking before turning away while Rizzo turn around only to see me staring right at him, jaws clenched.

"Easy, big guy."

With another huff, I honestly tell what I really feel about him: "I don't know how you can sit in the same room with that clown."

Honestly, I don't know how he can be so calm: "Let it go. It's over. Let it go." That makes me to stare at him with even colder expression. Both, Silky and Coxy, feel the tension growing and Coxy finally asks while bringing his glass of beer to his lips: "What's going on here?"

Before Rizzo can answer, Silk explains since he is the only one who knows what was really happening the last time University of Minnesota and Boston University met on the ice. Eventhough, we didn't make it to the playoff of the Nationals, I still blame Gophers for it. And McClanahan annoys me for no reason, but he was a Gopher. And he seems like a rich kid who is used to get everything he wants.

"OC' s got a little unfinished business over there," Silky nods his head in the direction of Minnesotan table.

"Not for long, I don't," I oppose him and look at the test, expecting this debate to be over for us. But…I was wrong.

"What did I tell you, man?" Rizzo says loudly and mouths:" Let it go."

Finally, Coxy gets what the fuss is all about: "McClanahan? You are still not going on about the bloodbath in the semifinals of NCAA against the U, are you? Come on, OC, that was like…3 years ago."  
He leans back on his chair, a smile on his face. Like he doesn't believe me I can be mad about anything like that.

"You know what, Coxy, lemme ask you a question," now it's my turn to lean back on my chair and look at him.

"Why did ya wanna play college hockey?"

Coxy, still being a goof, thinks I am joking. When I am not.

"I-Isn't it obvious? For the girls," he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer and making Rizzo try hard not to burst out laughing.

"I am serious, Coxy. Why did you wanna play college hockey," I ask again, this time loudly. Coxy quickly glimpses around before answering: "'Cause I love to play hockey, alright. I want to go to the NHL, just like everybody does."

"Well, I wanted to win national championship one more time. Just one more time. But guess what. That pansy over there cheap-shots me, I get tossed out of the game and he makes it to the playoffs where he steals the ring off my finger! How would _you_ feel?"

"Come on, OC, Boston won the championship in 1978. And you were MOP, remember?" Silky joins in before Coxy can answer.

Rizzo of course wouldn't be Rizzo if he didn't try to be a voice of reason, the calm and reasonable one: "Everyone was throwing cheap shots that night, okay?"  
This time, his goddamn calmness pisses me off. Where is that eruption everyone talks about? About how his last name in Italian describes him as a hockey player. Explosive?

"You know, Rizzo, is funny you say that. 'Cause I was just wondering what side are you on?" I lean forward on my chair and keep my gaze on dark-haired hockey player sitting near me. He lifts his hands in defeat: "I am on your side!"

"You know it really seems this way," I toss my pen on the table and lean back on my chair once again. Coxy sticks up with Rizzo: "Alright, just relax, okay? Jeez."

And what is Silky doing while those two try to calm me down? Don't know, but I figure it out when I catch a glimpse of that girl who is supposed to be our teammate wave at Silky and disappear. Not only that Minnesotan pansy is here, coach selected a girl to be on the team.

After Rizzo and Coxy team up against me and Silky obviously is too busy checking Brown girl out, I gather up my papers and mumble while standing up: "I am not doing this right now. I am outta here."  
"Where are you going?" Rizzo's voice rings through my ear and I look at him once again: "To my room. Is that okay with you? Mother?"

Not waiting for him to answer, I hurry out, but make sure I don't come closer to that girl than I have to. Last thing I need right now is some chick trying to pretend she is my teammate.

Just one thing. She has never been and she will never be my teammate. _EVER._


	8. Chapter 7: Seriously?

CHAPTER 7: SERIOUSLY?

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

My roommate is another guy from Boston, Jack Hughes. Yes, two Jacks in the same room, both Bostonians. When I get to our room, he is laying on his bed and reading a book. When the door close behind my back he looks up: "Didn't you go out with the others?"

"Well, I did. But I don't feel like being around Min-"  
"Guys from Minnesota, right?"  
"And that girl."  
"You mean Kimberly, right? Chick from Brown University?"

"Yeah, her," I plop down on my bed and bury my head in a pillow. "I don't get it, what is a girl doing in men's team?"  
"I don't know, it's weird. Hey, did you answer all of those questions?"

I lift my head and look at him: "Not all of them, what about you?"

"Halfway through it. Ya think coach is slightly insane?"

"Slightly? After all, he is a coach of Minnesota."

"Have you seen how many guys from Minnesota he picked? Bet the team will not have any guys from Mass on the final roster."

"I hope he won't make the team only from Minnesotans, that would be unfair."

"Let's hope we stand a chance… Hey, should we finish the test?"

Okay, I am not in a mood, but I know I will have to finish it eventually. And solving a test with a teammate can't hurt anyone, seems like a good way of bonding.

One hundred fifty questions and more than an hour later our tests are completed and I have learnt so much about this guy. I must admit, I wouldn't mind having Jack Hughes as my teammate (or even line mate, to be honest) at the Olympics more than half a year away from now. He is an easy-going player, but it's obvious he dislikes Minnesota. After we finish our tests, I grab one can of beer from the mini fridge for myself and toss one to him before sitting down on my bed.  
"So, do you think playoffs '76 will repeat?" Hughes asks, taking a sip of his beer. Ah, the semifinals '76…infamous semifinals. I did play back then and I was of course one of the enforcers. From all the guys from BU here, Rizzo and I were the only ones to actually be a part of the team. A minute into a game the gloves dropped and this huge fight happened. It took an hour for an actual game to begin. And yes, it was Boston University against University of Minnesota.

"I hope so," I grin and empty the can.

"Trust me, Terriers are still not over that. I know we won two years later, but Minnesota has just won another title."

"I know, I know, but remember, Brooks is a coach of the U, do you think it would be clever to get into a brawl?"

I think for a second: "Better now than later."  
"You are right about that. What about the girl? Why you hate her so much?"

I get up from my bed and start pacing back and forth the small confined room: "Well, during the tryouts she told me I should get lost. While I was just, you know, trying to help a damsel in distress."

Hughes' eyes are wide open: "Really? She seems really nice, I would never expect her to do that."  
"Well, she did. Plus, a girl has nothing to do among men. No matter how good she is or how fast she can skate."

"I agree she has nothing to do here, but… would you really injure her that much to force Brooks to send her home?"  
"No. I am going to make her wish like hell she never came here. I am going to make her go home by herself."

"You already have a plan how to do that?"

I sit back on bed and slip under covers before answering: "Not yet. But I will come up with something before tomorrow's practice."  
"Just be careful, okay? Don't get sent home instead of her," Hughes warns before he turns off the lights in the room. After "good night's" the room sinks in silence, giving me a perfect opportunity to start thinking about my plan. How to send her back home without being sent back to Charlestown…Whatever I will do, it has to be done right.

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

 _Dear diary._

 _I don't even know how to describe my first week of the Olympic experience. I have already made few friends with guys from Minnesota and with one from Boston. But those guys from Boston University are…tough guys. I saw few of them in the bar and they didn't hang out with others. And there is another thing. John J. O'Callahan. He has been an asshole since the first second we met and he is starting to piss me off more and more. I hate to admit that, but the glares he keeps sending in my direction, are starting to freak me out. I've heard guys from the U talk about the semifinals 1976 and they told me him and Mike Eruzione were a part of that team. And guys who played for the U back then told me he has always been the first one to drop gloves. I don't know, that makes me feel uneasy. I wish I could see gals from my team and talk with them about it…_

 _Also, if I thought playing for coach O'Connell was hard…I have never been so wrong. Coach Brooks had us all taken some kind of psychological tests. We'll see how this will end…_

 _Well, that's it for now, I will check in again soon. I hope._

 _K._

I sigh and bury my diary under the layers of clothes I brought with me. Usually, writing a diary makes me feel somehow relieved, but not today. I can't shake O'Callahan's glares out of my head. Even though guys from the U and UMD promised me they would not let him close, I feel really uneasy. For a second the phone on the nightstand tempts me to pick it up and call Ali. I know her phone number at Brown so I could technically call her. Or maybe I could call any of the other girls from the team, but I realize calling home is not an option. Now I am here and I will have to deal with everything like my new team. Like one of the guys, whether I like it or not.

A soft knock on the door interrupts my train of thoughts and I get up from my bed.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Neal. Open up."

I open the door and invite him in: "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"  
"Yeah, don't worry. Just came to check up on you if you arrived safely."  
"That's so nice of you, Neal. Thank you. And as you see, I did. Have you finished your test?"

He smacks his forehead: "Damn it, I knew I had forgotten something! Thank you for reminding me!"

He quickly pecks my forehead and nearly trips on his way out. Laughing, I yell after him: "Good night, Neal!"  
As soon as I close and lock the door, I feel waves of tiredness coming after me. After a quick shower, I crawl under blankets and fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow is the first practice and I really don't want to miss it.

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

"OC, wake up," someone shakes me. I open my eyes and look up at the guy who dared to wake me up: "What?!"  
"We have practice. And if you don't get up right now, we, or you, will be late."  
"Practice?"

"Olympic team? Are you kidding me right now?"

Oh, shit! I somehow forgot I am not at the BU anymore. And that new coach is a strict guy who gave us tests.

I let out a groan, but get out of bed. After quick shower, both Jacks are ready for practice. Each of us carrying his stick and with bag hanging over his shoulder, we head towards the Bloomington Ice Arena in relaxing silence. At the entrance coach Patrick stops us: "Morning, boys. Do you have your tests?"

"Yeah," Jack passes him his neatly folded test while mine is a bit crumpled. Before I hand it to coach Patrick, I quickly try to make it look a bit more presentable.

"I am sorry, coach. I didn't mean to bring the test back like that…"  
"No problem, Jack. So, you know where the locker room is, right? We have given you your assigned stall. The only thing you have to do is find it. And after practice, you can leave your bags here, they will be taken care of."  
"Thank you, coach."  
I hurry to the locker room and check who my "neighbors" are. And someone must be f*cking with my mind. Okay, on my right is Silky, thank god, but on my left side…yeah, you have guessed, is that Brown chick. With a sigh I sit down and start pulling out my gear. Across the room I notice Rizzo, who smiles a bit. I return him a smile, which dies as soon as I notice McClanahan is Rizzo's "neighbor". Rolling my eyes, I huff and turn around.

"You have got to be shitting me," female voice says next to me. Great, she has arrived.

"Same here."

She glares daggers at me, apparently trying to scare me or god knows what, but it only makes me smirk: "Keep trying to kill me with your glaring, puppet, maybe one day you will realize pretending to be a guy doesn't suit you."

"Maybe one day you'll realize hockey is men's game."

Only a grip on my shoulder stops me from beating the crap out of her. Anger flows through my veins as I snatch the helmet off the hook and pull it on my head.

"See ya on the ice," I mumble to Silky and with my hands still clenched into fists, head on the ice.

"She is not getting away with any of it. She is f*cking dead woman and I will personally take care of it. A bitch ruining the game…"  
"Is there a problem, Jack?"

I look up and see, to my misfortune, coach Brooks standing only few inches away. It takes a second for me to regain my confidence: "Not at all, coach. I was…just thinking out loud…about, uh, my ex-girlfriend."  
He looks at me and says calmly: "Is it? Then you should focus on something else, not on her."

"Yes, coach, I will."

I quickly slip past him and get on the ice. Davey and Rizzo soon join me and first thing Dave does is put hands on my shoulder pads: "Get yourself together, Jack. She is not worth it."

"Listen to Silky, OC. Remember why are we here."

I open my mouth to say something when the whistle blows. All twenty-seven of us are already on the ice and the silence lays above us as soon as Herb blows the whistle.

"Welcome to the first practice, gentlemen. And lady. We will start with different skill stations and end today's practice with working on different plays. Any questions? No? Okay, Janaszak and Craig, go to the nets please. After the warm-ups," Herb stops both goalies from skating to their nets. Then he quickly checks the roster and calls out one of the players from Minnesota. Speaking of favoritism.

"Baker, lead the warm-ups!"

"Yes, coach."

Two or so hours later we are all pretty exhausted and we haven't even gotten to the plays yet.

"Come on, Ramsey, a dead horse is in better shape than you are! And you are the youngest! Rizzo, what are you doing ?! Pass the goddamn puck or shoot it! Christoff! STOP HANGING BY THE BOARDS AND MOVE YOUR FAT LAZY ASS!"

I swear, he never runs out of creative ways to kick our asses around or make us feel worthless.

"O'CALLAHAN!"

I snap out of my daydream as I hear my name being called. Not called, yelled.

"Yes, coach?"

"Get off the ice, RIGHT NOW!"

I look around and notice everyone, except for me, has gotten off the ice already. I skate to the bench and plop down next to Coxy.

The first line starts and I see why Johnson made the team. What this guy is doing on the ice is…magic. Honestly.

"That's it. KICK IT OUT!"

"Look for the pass! Come on, hit him with a pass! Go, Johnson!"  
"OUTSIDE!" One of the guys yells, but Johnson seems to ignore him as he keeps skating towards the net.

"Alright, Johnson, hit him on the other side!" Herb gestures with his stick and his words appear to go unheard.

"SILK, KEEP IT UP! Move and hit him, Johnson, he is open!"

Silky calls Johnson, but this guy apparently doesn't hear anything: "Center! Center!"  
"Come on, Johnson!"

But he doesn't pass and when he tries to score, he hits the post. From the bench I see how he rolls his eyes just before Herb calls him: "JOHNSON! Coast-to-coast stuff may work here, but it won't against the teams we'll be playing."

"OK," Johnson mumbles before skating to the bench and only few seconds later, Herb calls up another line.

"Next line up. Let's go. Let's run it again."

I glance over at the other bench, keeping my gaze on McClanahan and that girl. He gets on the ice and I stand up as well. Ken already has one leg over the boards as I stop him: "Morrow, let me take this one."  
He looks at me surprised, but lets me take his spot.

"This is a breakout play, gentleman. So let's get rid of the puck early."

A moment before Herb blows the whistle, I glance over at McClanahan. Of course he is ready, what else to expect…well, I hope he is ready to get ran over by Boston. My lips curve into a small smirk as Herb blows the whistle. Let the fun begin…

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~  
**_ Needless to say, seeing O'Callahan next to me really made my day worse. Out of twenty-six players, he has to have a stall next to me. Not any of the guys from Minnesota, but him. Just great.

After he storms out, Silk looks at me and shakes his head: "You two are acting like the biggest idiots 'round here."  
"Not me. Him. But of course, Boston sticks together."

I turn my back to him and quietly pull on my gear. Lastly, I pull the helmet over my long dark hair and take my stick.

"Brots, ya ready?" I call Broten, whose stall is about three or four stalls away from mine.

"As I will ever be. What about you?" he asks when I come closer.

"Same. I am kinda excited. And scared. But you know, I guess you can never truly prepare for the practice."

He drapes his arm around my shoulders and laughs: "Don't worry. You'll do just fine. Good luck out there."  
"To you too."

During the scrimmage, I watch every move Johnson makes in awe. The way he slides the puck around with ease and the speed he skates around with is something I have never seen by a college boy. But it's true, he doesn't pass, no matter what coach tells him to do… And Herb is not happy with that especially since Johnson hit the post after over playing all of the other guys.

When Herb calls the next line, Rob next to me gets off the bench and leaps over the boards.

"Hey, Rob."  
"Yeah," he turns around and smiles in anticipation.

"Good luck out there."  
"Thanks," his grin is the last thing I see before my eyes land on the other side of the ice. On O'Callahan staring at Rob with that killing expression of his. I pull on someone's jersey and the guy, who turns out to be Ramsey, turns to me: "What's wrong?"  
"Look at O'Callahan…"  
He looks at him and then back at me: "I have no idea what are you talking about. Kim, relax. Okay? He wouldn't da-"

Whatever he wanted to say gets cut off by the horrendous sound of pads hitting pads and helmets hitting together. We all look on the ice and see Rob laying on the ice, Verchota and Harrington already around him. My heart stops for a second before my veins fill with rage. O'Callahan. Who else would have gotten so low to hit his own teammate? No one else, but John J. "Jack" O'Callahan.

I leap over the boards and land on the icy surface just in time to hear O'Callahan say: "Tell your boy to keep his head up so he won't have to worry 'bout it."


	9. Chapter 8: Come On, Drop Those Gloves!

CHAPTER 8: COME ON, DROP THOSE GLOVES!

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

"Tell your boy to keep his head up so he won't have to worry 'bout it," smile draws on my face as I watch McClanahan laying on the ice while two of the guys, Harrington and Verchota, help him up. With a spark of a satisfaction I notice the hit gave him bloodied nose.

"That was cheap," I hear other guys mumble, but my eyes are focused on three guys from Minnesota and especially Verchota's death glare.

"Let go off me," McClanahan tries to free himself from two iron grips, but doesn't succeed.

"Mac, it's not worth it. Stop it right now, let's get you patched up."

"I want a piece of that ass!"  
"Next time watch where are you skating, ya whiny baby!" I yell after him when he is taken off the ice. He turns around, drops of his blood landing on his jersey and Doc's shirt, and tries to skate back, but Harrington stops him. My grin grows wider, but then I see Herb. Well…he is not happy at all.

"Come over here, Jack."

Mentally rolling my eyes, I skate over to him: "Yes, coach?"

"Was that necessary?"

I think for a second before answering: "It was, coach."

"Do you wanna get your ass flown back to Charlestown?"

Even though he says that calmly, chills run down my spine. There is no doubt he wouldn't do that. And McClanahan is one of his players from the U, of course he wants to send me back right now. I look down and shake my head: "No, coach. I am…"  
Okay, I am not sorry, but if that's gonna keep me here…

"I am sorry for hitting McClanahan, coach."

"Are you now? Get back there and give me one good reason not to send you back home!"

McClanahan comes back soon and we continue with scrimmages. And this time, she takes McClanahan's space. Yeah, yeah, I know, coach warned me, but come on, this is hockey. And of course I won't pull the same trick again. I know she will be watching every move I make. As soon as the puck drops and coach blows the whistle, she skates for the puck and passes it to Johnson, who skates with the cold rubber towards Jimmy's goal. Just in front of the net, he passes it to Strobel. He fakes a slap shot and passes the puck back to her, when she losses ground beneath her feet and collides on the ice. With the help of my stick and slight nudge at the right time, of course. Everyone gasps as her helmet hit the ice and I can feel their glares on me once again, only this time I bet they are all nearly death glares. Strobel and Johnson want to help her get up, but she shakes them off: "Wanna go, ya showoff?"

"What would a baby like you do, uh? Maybe cry for help?"

"Okay, that's it! Or are you afraid of fighting?"

"Beat the shit out of you? It would be my pleasure."

I drop my gloves on the ice and look at her again before charging into her: "Drop those gloves, ya baby. Or do you fight with your gloves on? "

"You asked for it," she yells and in a next second her gloves drop too. One thing I forgot is that she is much lighter and she can dodge my fists faster than anyone else I have ever fought. My fist clenches tightly around her jersey and she does the same before throwing the first punch. She clearly aims for my head and her hit was somehow expected, so I dodge it with no difficulties. She tries to punch me in a jaw two more times before I pull her up by her jersey, just a bit so she is now touching the ice only with the tip of her skates.

"You hit like a girl," I laugh at her face before I get a taste of my own blood. She used that opportunity to hit me and that tips me off. I roughly set her back on the ice and start throwing punches. Since her helmet has bars, I aim for her sides. I feel her wince whenever my fist connects with her sides, but I don't stop. Well, she uses a second I was too busy thinking where I could hit her to pull my closer by my jersey. And again, her fist connects with my jaw.

"Come on, OC! Get 'er some!"

"Kim, you got him! Just knock him down, come on!"

And surprisingly, she did knock me down. But not because of her hits, it's because she moved her left leg behind me and pulled it back, making me lose balance. I fall backwards, but my grip on her jersey is still iron and she goes down with me. In mid-fall, I manage to turn us around so she is the one to land on the ice, while I land on top of her. What can I say, years of practice. Before the others pull us apart, I still manage to give her two or three good punches.

"Come on, that's it."  
"Pull them apart, Strobel!"

Strobel puts his hand on my shoulder: "Come on, man, your proved your point. Get up."  
I get up, but not before I put my hands on the middle of her chest and lean on her with my entire body weight. She lets out quiet cry and whimpers, making my lips curve into a devilish grin: "Next time, watch who are you fighting with."

"Next time, fight someone your own size, asshole."

Of course she is brave again, she has Ramsey and Verchota looking after her now. Harrington picks up her gloves and her stick and hands it over to her, mumbling quietly: "It is not worth it, Kim."

I open my mouth to say something, but before I can do anything, someone covers my mouth. I shoot a death glare at the direction of a guy, who is holding his stinky glove on my mouth, and I see it's only Rizzo, shaking his head no.

"Relax, OC. It's done. Forget it."

"But…"  
"How 'bout it, boys? Look like hockey to you? More like two monkeys screwing a football to me, I don't know. How about you, Craig?"

Herb's voice rings through the arena and his glare lands on me. I wipe blood for the corner of my lips where her strongest punch landed and don't look away from him. He then turns to Kim, who is still leaning on Ramsey and Verchota for support and breathing heavily.

"Yeah."

"If ya wanna settle old and new scores, you are on a wrong team. We move forward starting right now. We start becoming a team _right now."_ Herb hits his stick against the ice and skates around a bit before speaking up again: "Skating. Passing. Flow and creativity. That's what this team is all about, gentlemen, not old rivalries."

I look around the others and few of them seem tired of everything. But that's not where Herb stops. Oh, no.

"So, why don't we start with some introductions. Ya know, to get to know each other a little bit. Where are you from? Who you are? Go ahead."

He looks at McClanahan who looks at his coach like he is not sure whether he is being serious or not. He rolls his eyes and sighs: "Rob McClanahan. Saint Paul, Minnesota."

"Who do you play for?"

"I play for you. H-Here at the U," he answers and looks around his teammates from the U for some help. But Herb already turns to me: "Jack?"

"Jack O'Callahan. Charlestown, Mass."

I pause for a second and smirk: "Boston University."

"Over here," Herb points at Coxy, who sets his helmet and grins: "I'm Ralph Cox. I am from wherever is not gonna get me hit."

Coach allows us to crack a little laugh before turning to Harrington and Ramsey, who are supporting the girl.  
"What about you?"

"John Har-"  
"Not you, Bah, I meant the girl."  
She looks up at coach and takes a deep breath before answering: "Kimberly Mayfield. From Providence, Rhode Island and I play for Brown University."

"Okay. Bah, Ramsey, take her to the locker room."

And that was the last time I saw Kimberly Mayfield from Providence, Rhode Island and a student of Brown University on the ice that day.

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

I am close to scoring during the scrimmage, when I feel someone trip me by my skate and shoulder bump me, just to make sure I fall. My helmet hits the ice and for a second everything stops. Even my heartbeat slows down before I take a deep breath and look up at whoever tripped me. Jack, of course, who else.

Strobel and Johnson stop by me and help me get up. As soon as I am on my feet, I shake off their grips and ignore worried questions whether I am okay. The only thing I see right now is beating O'Callahan's cocky smile off his dumb face.

"Wanna go, ya showoff?"

"What would a baby like you do, uh? Maybe cry for help?"

"Okay, that's it! Or are you afraid of fighting?"

"Beat the shit out of you? It would be my pleasure."

He drops his gloves and I realize he was serious. I am actually getting into a fight with a hot-headed hockey player, who is not afraid of fights. He comes closer to me: "Drop those gloves, ya baby. Or do you fight with your gloves on? "

That is all it takes for me to lose it as well. I might regret that after, but right now, I want to beat his face in. my gloves drop as well and not a second passes before we are grabbing each other's jersey. As soon as my fist clenches around the fabric of his jersey, I throw a punch, but he dodges it. It is obvious he was expecting me to aim for his head. I throw few more punches before I realize my skates are not on the ice anymore. And suddenly, I am the same height as he is.

"You fight like a girl," he spits out and laughs. Well, I hope he will still be able to laugh after I am done with him. I swing my fist and hear the satisfying sound of knuckles hitting his jaw.

"Come on, OC! Get 'er some!"

"Kim, you got him! Just knock him down, come on!"

That clearly awakens the true fighter in him and I am back on the ice. Only he puts me back down so hard I nearly fall, but after few shaky seconds of not knowing whether I will be able to stand, I regain my balance. However, that doesn't give me enough time to prepare for his punches and his first punch to my sides nearly makes me exhale all the oxygen I have in my lungs. It takes few more hits for me to comprehend this fight is not over. That's when I seize the chance of him not paying attention to our lower bodies and I hook my left leg around him, right below his knee, and pull my leg back to me. His leg is trapped and he falls back. With the iron grip on my jersey, he pulls me down with him. His fighting experiences pay off when he manages to flip us over, so I am the one to get air knocked out of the lungs when I hit the ice, not him. Once on the ice, he traps me beneath him and completely disables me, which lets him take two or three good punches to my sides before the others pull us apart.

"Come on, that's it."  
"Pull them apart, Strobel!"

"Come on, man, your proved your point. Get up," Strobel puts his hand on Jack's shoulder.  
Well, he gets up after he puts his hands in the middle of my chest and presses me against the ice with his entire body weight. Even though I have my chest protector on, that hurts more than all of his hits. I let out a small and quiet cry when he does that, making him smirk: "Next time, watch who are you fighting with."

"Next time, fight someone your own size, asshole," I spit through gritted teeth as I lean on Verchota and Ramsey for support. They both put arms on my back and make sure I don't fall.  
"Are you okay?" Ramsey whispers worriedly. I nod my head, but my chest and sides still hurt. And that putting his entire weight on my chest was not really necessary. Only an asshole would do- Oh, we are talking about O'Callahan here. So that move was not a surprise.

"Kim," Harrington quietly calls me and hands me over my gloves and my stick. He continues in a quiet murmur: "It is not worth it, Kim."

"He is an assho-"

"How 'bout it, boys? Look like hockey to you? More like two monkeys screwing a football to me, I don't know. How about you, Craig?" Herb's voice interrupts me in the mid-sentence. I take few more deep breaths, while still leaning on Ramsey for support. His arm is still securely wrapped around my waist and he doesn't show any signs of letting me go until he makes sure I am fine.

"Yeah," coach Patrick quietly agrees with coach Brooks.

"If ya wanna settle old and new scores, you are on a wrong team. We move forward starting right now. We start becoming a team _right now."_ Herb hits his stick against the ice and skates around a bit before speaking up again: "Skating. Passing. Flow and creativity. That's what this team is all about, gentlemen, not old rivalries."

I feel Herb's cold gaze land on every single one of us, but I don't find enough strength to look up and into his eyes.

"So, why don't we start with some introductions. Ya know, to get to know each other a little bit. Where are you from? Who you are? Go ahead."

I don't see who he is talking to, but I don't have to. Thick Minnesotan accent…even if he didn't introduce himself, I would suspect he called Rob first. I look up when he calls Jack's name and mentally roll my eyes at his cockiness. Does this guy really think he is a gift from god or what?

Ralph Cox, another guy from Boston is the next in the line for the introduction. And then Herb turns to us. To Ramsey, Harrington, Verchota and I.

"What about you?"

"John Har-"  
"Not you, Bah, I meant the girl."

I lift my head and lock my gaze with coach before saying loudly: "Kimberly Mayfield. From Providence, Rhode Island and I play for Brown University."

"Okay. Bah, Ramsey, take her to the locker room."

With both guys supporting me on each side, I skate back to the locker room, where I get checked up by our Doc.

"Can we stay with her?"  
"Bah, you guys have practice. I will take good care of her. Go now," Doc shoos two adorably concerned guys back on the ice before turning his focus to my ribs.

"Good thing is nothing is broken. Even from that last thing he did. Everything seems in order, but you can expect a bit of troubles with breathing for few days. Don't worry, I will talk to Herb. Right now, I would recommend you to take your gear off, take a shower and get back to your room. Leave your things here, they will be taken care of. You must not carry anything heavy and rest for the rest of the day, okay?"  
I slip off the table and smile at Doc: "But I will be able to play soon again, right?"  
"Only if you listen to everything I say."  
"Yes, I will do exactly what you tell me to! Thanks, Doc."

It will be hard… doing nothing and resting. That is not my style, but I guess that has to be done. Plus, I will have some time to come up with a revenge plan…


	10. Chapter 9: Shattering Walls

CHAPTER 9: SHATTERING WALLS

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

In the locker room, I pull down the rest of my gear, cringing in pain time-to-time. This O'Callahan guy can throw great punches, I give him that. But that doesn't mean I am afraid of him.

Just as I put my street clothes on, the rest of the guys come in, looking exhausted and completely worn out. Ramsey and Harrington surround me before taking their gear off: "How are you?"

"Just a bit beaten up, nothing else. What did I miss, guys?"

"Eh, nothing special, just OC getting yelled at by Herb."  
"Damn it, I wish I was there to hear that."

Both guys look at me and Harrington slowly says: "Don't worry, Herb said he has to have a word with you as well…"  
My heart freezes at his words: "W-When?"

"When you get changed. So I think he is expecting to see you now," Ramsey continues and looks at John, who nods his head slowly: "He is waiting for you in the office."  
"Shit. Thanks, guys."

"Good luck."

I nod and slowly head out of the locker room, my gaze focused on the floor and away from the rest of the guys. Just before I step out, Broten stops me: "You want me to wait for you?"

I look up at him, at his friendly face and concerned eyes and nod slowly: "That would be great, I hope you don't mind."  
"Not at all. I'll wait for you in front of the arena, okay?"

"Thank you, Neal."

If I knew him longer and if we weren't surrounded by other guys, I would hug him. He has been the sweetest guy here since the day one and without him, I would probably be lost on my first day here.

"No problem. Good luck, Kim."

I nod my head and smile, trying to conceal how concerned I am. I have been in troubles before and I know being called to coach's office usually doesn't bring anything good, but being called by Herb Brooks probably takes that to whole new level. Walking down the corridor to coach's office takes ages, but at the same time I have a feeling of time passing by way too fast. I nearly miss the door since I am so lost in my thoughts of what could possibly happen with me. Honestly, my biggest fear is to be sent home over some stupid fight I didn't even want to get in in a first place.

With a deep breath, I gently knock on a door and wait for the response.

"Come on in!"

I exhale deeply as I put my hand on a doorknob and push the door: "You wanted to see me, coach."

"Yes. Sit down, please."

Hesitantly, I sit down on an uncomfortable wooden chair, my hands underneath me to conceal how much I am shaking. Herb finally lifts his gaze and looks at me. His face is expressionless and his eyes are completely empty. My heart stops as our gazes meet and it seems like ages before he speaks up: "You do know why you are here, right?"

"Yes, coach, I know why you sent for me."

"I hope you know I won't treat you any differently than the rest of the team regardless you are a girl. And I am going to tell you exactly the same thing as I did to Jack. You can be a hell of a great player, but if you think I can't send you home because of your behavior or old rivalries, you are wrong. If you want to be on this team, your personal matter stay out of this place starting today. Are we clear?"

"But, coach… he started it, I-"  
"I don't care. If you can't deal with that, I can send you home right away. And don't think I didn't tell that to O'Callahan as well. I did."

"Understood, coach," I mumble quietly and look away from his burning gaze.

"That's all. You can leave now and don't forget to leave your gear here."  
"Yes, sir," I say while getting up and just before I exit the office, I turn around, my hand already on the doorknob.

"Thank you for not sending me home."  
"This is the last warning," he warns again while looking down at the papers. He quickly sets his glasses before scribbling something down. Apparently, he has nothing left to say to me, his silence is enough to make me realize it's high time to leave. Quietly, I slip out of the room and close the door behind my back.

Well, from now on, all the fighting has to be done secretly, otherwise I will probably be sent home. Or if I can make Jack look like the bad guy and make Herb send him home…the problem here is I know Jack would not hesitate a second to drag me down with him and probably we would both have to leave then.

"Hey, Kim!"

Someone calls my name and this wakes me up from my thoughts. I look around and see Neal coming down the hall towards me. With no words I hug him, my head resting against his chest. After seconds of awkward standing, he brushes strands of my hair behind my ear and returns me a hug: "What happened?"

My eyes are starting to get teary as I look up at him: "He told me the same thing as he did to Jack. If he ever sees us fighting again, he will send us both home with no hesitation…"

"Kim, avoid troubles, please…"  
"If he won't stop being an ass, I won't hesitate to beat him.-"  
"It's not worth it! Listen to me, please, it is not worth it."

"No, you listen to me. I appreciate you are trying to help, but you must know something. I want this, I wanna prove myself and I will not let anyone, let alone a sorry ass from Boston University, stand on my way. I honestly don't care how 'scary' he is, this is my dream and nothing will stop me."

Neal takes a step back with his hands raised in a sign of surrender: "Okay, I didn't mean anything. But you know, your commitment to your dreams is something really amazing, that's why I don't want to see you get thrown off the roster."  
"Neal, seriously, don't worry about me."

I take a quick glimpse around and give him a quick hug when it's obvious we are alone. With no hesitation, he hugs me back and mumbles: "Okay, but if you need any help, I am here for you."

With his arm loosely slinging from my shoulder, he leads me out and to our assigned rooms in the dorm.

"Rest up, okay?" Neal smiles and pecks my cheek when we stop in front of my room. My cheeks turn slightly pink at the feeling of his lips on my cheek and I smile: "That was my plan. Crawl under blankets, pick up a good book and slowly fall asleep. Don't party too much with your Minnesotans, okay?"

He laughs quietly, his chest shaking from suppressed laughter: "Got it, ma'am. Well, I guess I'll see ya tomorrow them."  
"See ya tomorrow," I smile warmheartedly and close the door after he walks away, giving me one final wave.

Behind the closed door, I finally break down, letting tears fall down my cheeks. I would never admit this, but I am scared. Scared of getting cut, scared of not being accepted by the others as much I am accepted by Neal. Scared of Jack O'Callahan, now when I see he has no moral limits and hitting a girl doesn't seem to be a problem for him. But what I fear the most is getting into another fight with him and being sent home for it. I know myself and I know if he will be looking for another fight, he will get it. And that's what worries me, my temper can get me into so much trouble, but I have no idea how to contain it.

I lay on my bed and grab a book when my beaten ribs remind me resting a bit is the only option for me. Only for a bit. With not even realizing how or when, I drift asleep, letting the book fall on a pillow next to me.

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

"Jack, come over here!" Herb calls me after the practice ends and I feel a lump growing in my throat. He knows I am the enforcer, a fighter. Hell, everyone in the NCAA knows that, my coach or not. However, I just hope I am not going home for dropping my gloves. With a swift movement I pull down my helmet and shake my head before skating over to him.

"Yes, coach?"

"I am not here to tell you things the nice way and I am only saying this. If you wanna make this team, put your shit together and you better start behaving like a team player, not an individual like you behave in Boston."  
"But, coach, I-"  
"If I see you going after one of your possible teammates ever again, I will make sure you will never taste a national team, are we clear?"

Mentally rolling my eyes, I nod: "Yes, _sir._ "  
"And you better drop that cocky attitude as well. You are no better than the guys here, so stop acting like you are."  
Blood starts boiling at his apparent attack and it takes every bit of my willpower not to tell him to go back to his University and coach a group of whining babies how to play hockey while trying not to be a disgrace to sport. But I know I have probably crossed all the lines tonight and I have never gotten that far to insult any coach. That's something I do only in my head, but not also in their faces, that would probably affect my future career in some way and I really don't want to try out that scenario.

"Good night, Jack," Herb leaves the ice, letting me know the conversation is over for both of us.

"Goodnight, coach," I mumble under my breath before skating to the locker room. On my way there I notice few of the guys from Minnesota, who were clearly eavesdropping. My lips curve into a smile, which I hope conceals how much Herb's words really scared me. Well, not really scared, more like…okay, I will admit, his words scared me almost as much as the thought of being one of the six guys to be cut from the team did.

"Enjoyed the show?" I smirk and push my hair back. They only look at me before they wordlessly disappear into their locker room.

"Pansies," I huff and slip into my locker room, which is already half empty, other guys probably went back to their rooms after today's practice. One thing I give Minnesota is they have nice locker rooms, even those in which they usually other team changes. I have been here several times, but since we were the opposing team, we had no chances to run around and discover their home arena.

First Colorado and now Minnesota…well, this is apparently a trip around the States…

After a quick shower, I slip into my tracksuit, stuff my gear into my bag and leave it on the pile of other hockey bags, which are already waiting to be taken care of overnight.

When I get to my room, I notice Huggie is already asleep, snoring slightly with his mouth open. As quietly as I can, I change into my PJs and lay on my bed. Even though I am tired from every thing that has happened in this week, my eyes won't close and I am left with my thoughts. Which, right now, are not pretty. In fact, if anyone could see what am I thinking about right now…it would not end up okay. Mostly, I think about the rivalry and the fact I might have taken things a bit too far during the practice. Yeah, rivalries are a part of sport and BU: the U rivalry is one of the most notorious one. Show me a college rivalry in which the game was actually canceled for a whole hour and in which one of the players spat at coach of the opposing team. Exactly, it would be hard. While thinking about that, a thought of the Brown girl creeps on my mind. Maybe I was a bit too harsh on her, maybe I shouldn't have thrown that many punches. I mean, I did want her to feel pain, but…it was never my intention to send her off the ice too soon. Now, long after that happened, I see things clearer. Back then, my mind and common sense were clouded with rage, but now… doesn't matter, things happened.

One thing however, it is true. If she wants to play men's game with guys, she has to learn to live with punches and cheap shots.

"She deserved that," I say to myself, only to shut down the growing feeling of guilt somewhere deep inside of me. She has few of the guys watching over her, there is no need for me to feel sorry for showing her where her spot is. On this team certainly not.


	11. Chapter 10: Building Up Tensions

CHAPTER 10: BUILDING UP TENSIONS

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

The next morning I wake up at the sound of alarm clock and stretch my arm to shut it down, when the pain wakes me up completely. I lift up Brown T-shirt in which I slept and close my eyes at sight of my skin. Blue and purple marks are all over my ribs, some of them nearly black. Well, O'Callahan really took out his rage on me, I guess. Slowly, I crawl out of bed, throwing blanket off of me, when my chest starts to hurt and my breathing becomes labored.

"Oh shit," I sigh, my hand resting on a wall for support while I am taking deep breaths. With each breath I take, the pain gets worse and I realize there probably is no other option for me but to see the Doc. I wobble to the bathroom as fast as I can and change my clothes after a shower. Slipping my over-sized hoodie on, I rush down the dorm hall, when I bump into Mike Eruzione. As I bump into his broad chest, the pain flashes through my body again and I am left with no other option but to lean on him while taking deep breaths.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes… I will be fine, just need to see Doc," I smile weakly. His eyes soften a bit: "From yesterday?"

"From your asshole of a friend, yes."

He takes a step back, lifting his arms in surrender: "Hey, what you and OC had is none of anyone's business. I was just being nice."

"I know, I am sorry. Just…I am scared I might get sent home because of that and I really don't wanna leave."

Comforting words would be nice to hear and I see in his eyes he would like to say something to make me feel more secure, but there are just no words. Especially now when we are starting to get to know Herb.

"I-I am sure you have nothing to fear about. Let me walk you to Doc, okay?"

it takes few seconds for me to think about his words. Yes, he did offer that himself, but if anyone sees me in a company of a possible teammate, speculations and rumors will begin. Plus, it will look like I can't take care of myself.

"That would be nice. Thanks, Mike."

While walking to Doc's office at the campus, Mike and I keep the small talk. In this time I learn he plays for IHL's Toledo Goaldiggers and that he won Ken McKenzie Trophy, which is awarded to the American-born player, who had the most outstanding first season in the IHL. Not only that, his team also won Turner Cup a year ago. Excluding playing for Toledo, he had been playing hockey for Massachusetts teams nearly his entire life. With an emphasize on nearly.

"And after I finished high school I spent a year at Berwick University to fine-tune my game. A year after, after finishing Berwick U, I started playing for Boston."

"How did you decide to play hockey for BU?"

He chuckles somewhat awkwardly: "A funny story, really. There was another college in the game and I was seriously thinking about going there but something made me change my mind."  
"What was that something?" I keep being nosy, but this guy seems really nice and easy-going. My question apparently sets some memories free and he stops for a second. Then he shakes his head and smiles again: "Well, coach of that other school forgot my name and that just made me think ' _You know what, fuck you. why should I give you my time to play for you if you don't even remember my name.'_ And that's how I ended up at BU. What about you, what made you choose Brown University?"

"I never really thought about it. Ya know, everything I was doing for my entire life was just another thing to add to my CV and continue my education at Brown University. That was actually the only university that was considered as acceptable for me…"  
"Do you like it there?"

Do I like going to Brown? It may sound like a simple question, but it's tough. The truth is, I don't know. I have never thought of it, like really thought of it. It has always been the only option for me, I never even looked at other universities.

"Well…"  
"I'll take this as a no."  
"What makes you think so, I didn't say anything."  
"Your hesitation was self-explanatory enough. And here we are," he stops in front of the door with a plate which reads "Medical staff" on it.

"Thanks, Mike," I smile a bit. He returns me a smile and pats my shoulder awkwardly: "No problem, good luck and I hope everything will be okay."

"So do I," I mumble before knocking on the door.

"Come on in!"

I step into his office and close the door behind my back. He looks up for the stack of papers on his desk: "Ah, Kimberly. Is everything okay?"  
"N-no, not really."

"Sit down, please. So, what is wrong?"  
"Uh, my chest hurts and I had a little trouble with breathing. And I just wanted to know…"  
"If it's from yesterday's…incident? Yes, it is. And I already talked with Herb about today's practice. I recommend you skip today's practice, but if you intended to practice, don't push yourself too much."  
"Do you know what is wrong with me?"

He nods and pushes his glasses further up his nose: "Nothing is broken, that's for sure, but you must know O'Callahan is a strong guy and he didn't hold back. It is possible your ribs shifted a bit, but also breastbone is a really sensitive part of your chest."  
"What can I do to ease the pain, Doc? I really do not want to go home."

He sighs and rubs his temples. Going by how tired he looks, he hasn't gone home or has been here since the early morning.

"I can swathe your chest and we could try with some painkillers. But today I would really recommend you not to attend practice."

"Can you please swathe me now and give me the strongest painkiller possible?"

"You are still going to practice, aren't you?"

"Doc, I know you told me it's better not to risk, but I worked my butt off at Brown to get here and I am not letting this slip. I didn't work for nothing and if that's the price of staying here, I am paying it."

"Kimberly…"

"Please, Doc, just let me practice. I am taking all the responsibilities."

"Kimberly, that's really not a great idea…"

"Doc, I will be careful, I promise. Please."

I look at him with big eyes and repeat quietly: "Please."

"Would it make any difference if I said no?"  
"It wouldn't."  
"Yeah, I thought so," he sighs and gets up. From the cabinet he takes a bandage and a package of painkillers. He puts painkillers on a desk and unwraps the bandage. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

When I get into the locker room, I feel elastic bandage compressing my chest and painkillers I swallowed back in Doc's office numbing the pain.

"Kim, what-what are you doing here?" Strobel asks while putting his chest protector on.

"Kim?" Neal looks at me and I get a feeling the entire locker room is focused on me.

"I am on the team, Strobs," I smile and take my pads off the shelf and put them on. Before putting my elbow pads on, I clip my hair into a ponytail. While in the middle of putting my gear on, guys from Boston walk in. Jack's eyes apparently notice me in the second he walks in and next thing I know is his comment: "You never learn, do you?"  
"You never stop being an ass, do you?"  
"Never. Congratulations, usually people take more time to realize that."  
"Guess you have never met a smart person then. No wonders you attend Boston University."

"Guys, did you hear that, little miss Brown said we are stupid because we attend Boston. For your information, sweetie, you misjudged us."

My eyes accidentally flicker to Mike, Dave Silk and Jim Craig, all three guys from Boston and I see my word hurt them. I really didn't mean to insult them, my only purpose was to shut Jack down.

"Oh, did I? How in the hell did you get to university?"

"Some of us have brain and talent to play hockey, I don't know about you."

"How did you guess I have brain and talent? Did that take lots of effort, blondie?"

"What did you call me, crybaby?"

"Blondie. I called you blondie. In case you didn't notice, which I doubt because I am sure you spend few hours in front of the mirror to get ready, your hair is blonde. Dirty blonde, but still."

"Watch yourself."  
"You really want to go home, don't you?"  
"Let me tell you something, sweetie, if anyone, you are going home. You have absolutely nothing to do here."  
"Being sexist much? I think you are the only one with a problem here, I don't see anyone else complaining."  
"Maybe not in your face."

That leaves me speechless. The thought of guys talking behind my back that I have nothing to do here is not a pleasant thought. And Jack knew what to say to make me doubt myself.

I bite my lip and turn around to continue putting gear on. And I have never, not even when I was late at practices at the university, ever put on my gear faster than now.

"Kim…" Neal whispers quietly when I take a helmet and put it on my head. His hand gently touches my protected shoulder, but I shake it off: "I'll see ya on the ice."

Before I leave the locker room, I hear Neal stand up for me: "That was uncalled for, Jack."  
"That's the truth. Right, Jimmy?"

I close the door and want to head towards the ice, when I hear Jim's answer: "It's true she is a girl, but you could tell her that a bit nicer, OC."

"There is no nicer way to say it."

"It is, you just didn't want to be nice to her," I hear Neal's voice, which brings smile to my cheeks.

"You keep your mouth shut, it's clear you are crushing on her hard, Broten."

"I don't. And even if I do, what you said still wouldn't be the right way to say it."

"There is the way I did it and the way only sissies would do it."  
"Did you just call us _sissies_?" McClanahan's voice cuts Neal and Jack's argument and fury in his voice is as clear a day. Apparently, this will be another hell of a practice.

"Not all of you, but surely it applied to you, McClanahan. I don't know what you expect to be called if a girl gets into a fight after you have a little bloodied nose. By the way, how is your nose?"

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Okay, I've heard enough plus, I am sure this story hasn't ended yet and it will get its epilogue on the ice. Maybe today or maybe on one of the next practices. Just as I head towards the ice, Coach Patrick walks down the hall: "Where are the guys and what is taking you so long? You are fifteen minutes late and Herb sent me to get you."  
"Uh…how mad is coach."

"I'll just say prepare for the worst. Where are the rest of the guys?"  
"In a locker room. But I wouldn't go in there right now…"  
"Who?"

He asks only "Who?" but it's obvious what he meant. Who is causing troubles?

"A little rivalry thing again." I smile and subconsciously wrap my gloved hands tighter around wooden Koho stick. _And Jack being himself_ I add quietly. Why didn't I tell he is the one causing troubles? I don't know, maybe I don't want to ruin his chances here, no matter what an ass he is. Even though I believe he wouldn't hesitate a second to screw me over. Especially if that kept him on the team.


	12. Chapter 11: Another Bloodbath

CHAPTER 11: ANOTHER BLOODBATH

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

"Did you get lost on your way from the locker room, miss Mayfield?" Herb's cold politeness scares the hell out of me.

"No, coach. I am sorry I am late."

"Where are the others?"

Before I respond, coach Patrick comes back, followed by 26 guys in their gear and with sticks in hands. And going by the expressions on their faces, the bloodbath cannot be avoided. However, Herb seems to ignore the tensions between them and starts explaining practice plan.

"Coach Patrick and I will make four groups. When your name is called, skate forward and coach Patrick will give you a jersey. One more thing before we begin. Ten sprints after practice for being late."

A synchronized sigh echoes through the arena as coach's last words are spoken. That's one thing no one of us likes. Sprints. Or as we call them behind coach's back, Herbies. After the silence falls upon us, coach Patrick starts reading names: "First team. Johnson, McClanahan, Strobel, Christian ,Morrow and Ross"

Six guys skate to him and take the red jerseys he is handing them. Meanwhile coach Brooks calls up second 'team': "Harrington, Pavelich, Schneider, O'Callahan, Ramsey and Cox."

I get called into a third team along with Rizzo, Neal and Christoff as forwards and with Suter and Baker as defensive pair, while the fourth team consists of Les Auge, Jack Hughes as defence and Delich, Verchota, Wells and Silk as forwards.

Coach sends Buzzy Schneider in the first team and Bruce Horsch, the third goalie on a bench until it's his turn.

After all of us have our 'team' jerseys on, coaches have us run the stretching, which is led by Morrow this time. I start getting bad feeling about all this when Jack stops next to me and smirks: "Hello again."

It takes every bit of my willpower to ignore him and continue with stretching. While doing that, my muscles are tense and I somehow expect him to pull some nasty trick on me to make me lose balance and make fool out of myself. But he doesn't. However, I can feel his glare on me and it's not nice.

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

I feel nervousness radiating from her and it's actually quite entertaining to see her tense like that. If I turn my head I can see how flexed are muscles in her neck as she is expecting something to happen to her. My glance jumps across the ice where Broten keeps small talk with McClanahan. Next I catch Coxy, Silky and Rizzo's glances and I have a felling they are trying to tell me not try anything.

After the stretching exercises, I join my 'team' and follow Herb's instructions while he explains the exercise we will be doing. The speed with which he draws the lines, which represent us, and talks about the strategy makes my brain hurt. How does anyone ever understand him? He sends the third team off the ice and has us and the first team run the exercise.

I watch notice how flowing the passes between the three offenders, Harrington, Pavelich and Schneider are, and how they don't even need to look where the puck is. They just find the way to make the play work, giving first team's defensive pair a hard job of stopping them. I admit, their style of playing is so creative, that they even finish their play with a goal, making Janny look like a kid. After quick fistbumps, it's time to run another play, this time with Ramsey and I trying to prevent the other team from scoring. I keep my gaze focused on the puck, not on the players, which turns out to be a mistake. I feel a force smack into me, sending me on the ice. I look up and see McClanahan standing near, a small smile on his face. In that moment I realize it was him who smacked into me, that little prick from Minnesota. When I smacked into him, I was the worst person ever, but now when he did the same…no one says anything. Why would they? Minnesotans stick together.

"That's what you get for calling us sissies, asshole."

"What are you? Ten? You Minnesotans apparently never grow up, you remain whiny bitches for ever, or what?"

I stand up but soon find myself back on the ice again. I glare up and see Verchota returning me an ice glare. If looks could kill…

"What is your problem?"

"Don't ever call us whiny bitches again, did you hear me?"

"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? I am sure as hell you are not my mom. Thank god you aren't…"

Verchota squints his eyes and pulls me up by my jersey. He brings my face inches away from his and spits: "Don't you dare bring my mother into this."

"Come on, Phil, it's not worth it," Ramsey calls from his spot and skates closer only to be stopped by Coxy: "Stay out of it."

"Don't touch me," the youngest player spits back and shoves Ralph away. Ralphy is usually the calm one and I can count on how many fights he has been in on fingers of one hand. In his entire university career. But that push sets him off and he brawls his fist after dropping his gloves.

"You think I fear to punch you, kid?"  
"Looks like it since you just talk and do nothing," Ramsey drops his gloves as well and swings his fists. And lightly said, the hell breaks loose. But I am way too busy fighting Verchota. I must admit, he is a good fighter, his fist connects with my jaw and I feel it swell. Also, the taste of blood fills my mouth and I haven't tasted that in quite some time. I spit blood on the ice and return Verchota a series of fast punches he can't block. We might be good at throwing punches, but he…well, he is taller and if I remember correctly from the tryouts, heavier. He tackles me down and that's when they pull us apart. Wiping a blood off my chin, I take a look around and see no one else than Coxy and Ramsey throwing punches as well. Well, Coxy is hanging on quite okay, considering he is about 4 inches (10 centimeters) smaller than Ramsey and less built. So it's really not a surprise when Ramsey tackles him on the ice.

"I thought I was coaching hockey players, not pathetic fighters, who happen to be wearing skates," familiar voice with Minnesotan accent echoes through the arena and we turn around. Of course, when the fight broke out, we forgot coach was on the ice and he still is.

"If you want to go to the Olympics, you, gentlemen, will have to leave everything from your college years behind. But the choice is yours. You can drop the gloves at any given minute," his gaze lands on me and I return him a glare. He is not going to scare me, it takes much more than just glaring daggers at me to make my heart stop. When I don't llook away, he turns around and continues "or you can try and work as a team. The choice, once again, is only yours."

And with that, his lecture ends. No yelling, no cursing, just a simple monologue, said quietly and with authority in his voice and it was enough for us to remain quiet until the end of the practice. Oh, if we knew what he had in store for us.

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

I have never in my entire life seen a coach gain complete attention by speaking quietly. Actually, when he started talking, we could hear the pin drop. The guys from University of Minnesota exchanged surprised looks, which had me believe they had never seen him like that either.

Coach Patrick set up the marks in front of the net and we have to stand there, divided into two groups. Herb stops on the center ice: "There should be no problems with this drill. Both lines start at the same time, skate down the middle, to the far end and then back along the board. Each one of you has to do it…ten times. Then you repeat the same drill backwards, also ten times. Alright, let's go."

Soon, only the sound of hockey blades is to be heard, which is joined by heavy breathing and panting shortly after. When the whistle blows, all of us lean against the board and take deep sips of cold water. Neal turns over to me and spills some of his water on my back, making me gasp quietly and him chuckle under his breath.

"Moron," I mumble, plotting how would I get my revenge.

"Okay, Janazsack and Craig in the net, please. Half of you come with me, the other half stay on this side. We will be doing the same drill, only in two groups. Move to the right corner."

We all skate to the right corner, only on the different sides of the ice. Herb continues explaining the drill: "You start in a circle and stick handle one puck. At first we will do it with random pattern of stickhandling, then see how it goes. When I, or coach Patrick, blow the whistle, you shoot. Then one of us will pass you two pucks which you have to handle and shoot. After that, you will repeat the exercise with three pucks. Any questions?"

The arena sinks in silence, as we either have no questions either are too afraid to ask.

"Okay, so let's get started."

During the practice there is still something in the air and it's obvious the blood hasn't cooled down yet. But it's all done sneakily as I see Harrington continuously trying to trip Silk and Cox setting his skate on Ramsey's way when he is going back in the line. But we still don't manage to keep their temper under control and I am the first one to snap. Rizzo skates past me and hooks his stick between the outsole of my skate and the blade. Not expecting that, I stumble forward and crash into Dave Delich, making him fall on the ice.

"Are you out of your mind, woman!?"

"I am sorry, I didn't mean-"  
"What, are you too clumsy to stand on your own feet? Damn it, O'Callahan was right, a girl has nothing to do here."

Rizzo overhears his harsh words and interrupts before I can open my mouth: "I crashed into her, she had nothing to do with it."

"She still has nothing to do here!"

Now I see Rizzo lose it as he clenches his fists around Delich's jersey and smacks him against the boards: "Don't ever say that again."  
"You are fighting her battles, is she that weak?"

He didn't say I am weak, he didn't just step on a thin ice. I put my hand on Rizzo's shoulder: "Mike, he is right, you don't have to do this."

With those words, I punch Dave right in a face and feel warm blood cover my knuckles. Like in slow motion, he bends over, holding his bloodied nose and mutters under his breath: "Stupid airhead."

"What did you-"

"KIMBERLY MAYFIELD!"

Fuck. Great. Just great. Taking a deep breath, I look up and see our coach standing motionlessly on the center ice with an icy glare upon me.

"Yes, coach?"

"Off the ice. Now." 

_**~JACK'S POV~**_

"Off the ice. Now." Herb's voice makes blood freeze in my veins and luckily, this time he didn't use that tone for me. He used it for a little miss Brown and I am pretty sure she won't be playing in Lake Placid. I lean over to Neal and whisper with a smirk: "Guess you will be visiting your girlfriend, cause she won't be here long."  
"Shut up, Jack."  
"Bite me."

With a satisfied grin I watch as Herb takes the girl off the ice and it seems like she is truly sorry. But not for punching, more for being caught. My gaze jumps over to Delich, who is taken off the ice by the Doc and Pavelich. Coach Herb looks at us once again before disappearing with the injured Minnesotan and the girl: "The show's over, get your asses back to practice. If I see you slacking off when I get back…"

He looks at coach Patrick, who blows the whistle and the practice begins again like nothing happened. Like a girl hasn't just punched a guy in a face for telling the truth.


	13. Chapter 12: What Have I Done?

CHAPTER 12: WHAT HAVE I DONE?

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

To say Herb is pissed would be an understatement. A huge one in fact. Wordlessly, he points on a wooden chair and as soon as I sit down, he starts pacing back and forth through the small office. When he finally turns to face me, my blood freezes: "Care to explain what happened?"

"Coach, he said I have nothing to do here and called me weak, it's his fault."  
"I know this is hockey and I know it has not been easy for you. But going after your teammates…"  
"Possible teammates," I interrupt and immediately regret that decision when Herb leans his head to the side. He taps his fingertips together as he continues looking at me with no words. That makes me even more nervous and I start babbling: "I-I am sorry, uh, that…uhm, it just slipped out of my mouth and I…shouldn't uh have done that. It's just, I really don't want to go home and uh, um…"  
"You are on a good way to return to Brown, I hope you realize that. And I am warning you for the last time. If anything like that happens again… you will not see the Olympics."

"Yes, coach, I am sorry," I look down, my hands resting on my lap while my head is occupied with thoughts how screwed I am right now.

"I hope you did not expect me to make things easier for you because you are a girl. You wanna make men's team, then you better learn to deal with them."  
"Understood, coach."  
As I get a feeling there is nothing left he has to say to me, I stand up and turn around to leave the office when his voice interrupts.

"I am not sending you home just yet, but you are not allowed to practice with us for a week. I will talk to coach Patrick to take over coaching you, but I do not want to see you on the ice with the rest of the guys."  
In that moment I realize he won't hesitate a second to send me back home if anything happens again. That means I will have to contain myself until the final roster is announced…

"Coach….can you do that?"  
"I can do whatever the hell I want and if I want to separate you from the rest of the team, I can do it. Any questions?"  
"No, coach, no questions," I say quietly while slowly backing out of the room. As soon as the door to the office close, I feel the adrenaline rush decreasing which makes my legs weak in knees and I have a feeling like I am about to throw up. How is that possible? I know I am not the nicest person around, I have my flaws, but I have never, and I mean never, not even in my craziest moments, talk back to the coach like that. I have never interrupted his talking to be a smart ass. And certainly, I have not been on a verge of being thrown out of the team. Guess it's time to change the way I play the game and adapt to the rules, at least for a bit.

 _ **~ JACK'S POV~**_

Coach Brooks comes back for the last thirty minutes of the practices, but the Brown girl doesn't come back. That triggers a wave of quiet murmuring and questions what happened to her.

"Coach, where is Kim?" McClanahan asks and I roll my eyes. It's pathetic how much they care for her, all of the Minnesotans are the same.

"None of your concern, McClanahan. If I hear one more question about that or anything unrelated to practice, you will have to skate sprints again."

That shuts McClanahan and the rest of us down until the practice ends. Even in the locker room the debate doesn't spread however, we discuss the possibilities in smaller groups. I look over at Coxy, Silky, Rizzo and Jimmy exchanging quiet questioning glances. Even though I don't like her or the idea of any girl being in our locker room, I am curious what happened to her behind the closed door. I wait for fellow Bostonians to change and we leave the locker room with quiet "see you later"s. As soon as we are out of the complex, Silky asks: "What do you guys think happened to her? I spoke to Rob and he said she could had been sent home."  
"McClanahan, right? Yeah, I remember he said he had played for Brooks for four years."  
"And few other guys from the U said the same thing. There is a possibility Herb sent her home."  
"What 'bout you, OC? What do you think?"

I shrug my shoulders: "Dunno. I hope she finally got what she deserves and Herb really sent her home…"

"Come on, OC, can't you admit she can play? She outplayed almost all of us, the two guys better than here were Johnson and Pavelich," Rizzo sighs. Silky and Coxy quietly murmur something that sounds like words of agreement, while Jimmy, our nice guy, ruffles his hair: "Rizzo, she is a great player, there is no denying, but she is still a girl."

"Finally someone with some sense."  
"And this has nothing to do with her telling you to get lost on the first day of the tryouts?"

"Absolutely nothing."

As we head towards the dorms, someone calls me. I turn around to see Delich running after us. Even from the distance, bloody trace on his face is clearly visible and there is a round bruise right under his eye.

"Wow, Dave, she got you well."

"That bitch is going to pay for that, who does she think she is? Anyway, OC, I wanted to tell you, I am with you. About she being here, I mean."  
I smile at bloody-nosed Minnesotan: "Finally someone with some sense."  
"Few of the guys back there are backing you up as well. I heard them talk about how men's team should only consist of men, not some chick, trying to be one of us."  
I look at Rizzo victoriously: "See? I am not the only one."

Rizzo sighs and looks at other three guys: "What do you think of that?"

"Well, uh, this is men's team and she is a girl, but she is a great puck-handler and she must have proved something to be here," Silky stutters out and looks at Coxy, who looks towards the ice hall of the University of Minnesota before saying slowly: "She is a good player, I give her that- No, Jack, you have to admit the girl has skills- but I don't think she belongs here."

"I admit she has skills, but she robbed one of the guys of the opportunity to maybe make it to the wider roster for the Olympics. Now we are stuck with her."  
"Oh, guys, that will make your day. I heard coach Brooks telling coach Patrick to have individual practices with her. When coach Patrick asked why, Brooks replied because he doesn't want her practicing with us," Delich smirks and nudges my arm. As soon as my brain processes this information, my face lights up: "She might be going home soon. Thanks, Dave, you just made my day better."

"I thought that would make your days better. Anyway, see you later, guys. Do you have any plans?"

Other Bostonians nod, but I shake my head. My only plan was to lay in bed, grab one of the books I brought and a can of beer from a six pack, which Jack and I smuggled into our room on our first day at the U.

"What are you guys up to?"

"I just really need a nap, I am getting old," Rizzo jokes and makes the rest of us smirk. He joked about his age a lot even back in Colorado at the tryouts along with Schneider, but now he hasn't used any of those jokes in a long time. And he does look tired a bit.

"I promised mom I'd call her after the first week," Silky blushes a bit.

"Awww, little baby has to call his mommy to tell her he has survived big bad Olympic team. Well, first week," Rizzo ruffles Silk's hair while Coxy pokes his cheeks: "Is little Silky scared of being away from home for so long? Poor, poor little Silky."

Silky glares at both at them and then at Dave and I as we don't even try to cover up our stomach-hurting laughter. Dave even bends over as he chokes from laughter. I pat his back and try to put on serious face again.

"Say hi to your mom in my name and tell her I miss her pies."  
"Whoa, OC, you are quite familiar with Silky's mom. Something we should know?" Coxy wiggles his brows and nudges Rizzo. Sometimes I wonder how old are we and what am I doing with those morons.

"Oh, yes, how come I never mentioned that? I am becoming Silky's step dad real soon. His mom couldn't resist me."  
"Okay, guys, grow up," Silky mumbles, his face as red as a tomato. It has been so long since we picked on Silky and I nearly forgot how red he can get.

"Don't tell your mommy bad teammates teased you, okay?"

"You guys are really funny."

I sling my arm around his shoulder: "Come on, David Mark Silk, we are joking."

"You better be. Assholes," he looks down, his cheeks still red. Grinning, I playfully punch him in a stomach with the other hand and remove my arm from around his shoulders.

"What about you, Coxy, you have to call your mommy too?"

Ralph, still chuckling slightly, shakes his head: "No. I will relax for a bit, just to be ready for whatever Herb has in store for us tomorrow."  
"You three are party-breakers. So, I guess it's just the two of us, Dave."  
"Guys in the locker room recommended some great spots for a hangout after games or in our case, practices. And they also said girls are really nice," he smirks, making my grin grow wider. He has just made my day a bit better.

"What if we save bars for later and just grab some lunch for now?"

"Sounds good. See ya later, guys," Dave waves before we leave. Even though he is from Minnesota, I don't remember seeing him on the games against Gophers or Bulldogs…  
"You are from Minnesota, right?"  
"Yeah, but I studied at and played for Colorado College. Their development program seemed really cool and I had great time. And you are a proud Bostonian?"  
"Born and raised to be a Terrier."  
"Ya know, nearly the entire NCAA knows you for your fighting ability."

"I know. I grew up in Charlestown and left the place with many scars even before I started fighting other players."  
"What happened?"  
"Well, growing up in Charlestown wasn't a child's play. Let's just say if things had gone wrong while I was growing up, I could be dead by now. Or unhappily married with kids I would not even like to raise. There were, and still are, some serious alcohol and drug abuses…"  
"Sorry to dig into your childhood like that…"  
"No, it's okay. I am here now, fresh off the college, playing hockey and maybe going to the Olympics."

"But we are not even halfway at the Olympics, we still have a long way to go."  
I glance over at him and quietly admit: "Yes, we do." 

_**~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

 _What was I thinking? Why did I punch Delich in the face, that was exactly the reaction he was looking for! How could I be so stupid!?_

With a frustrated sigh I fall face-first on my bed and yell into a mattress. If this is going to send me home…no, wait, it wouldn't be fair. Most of the guys got into a brawl tonight while I just punched one of them in a face.

A knock interrupts me from my thoughts and I pull myself up. When I open the door, a friendly-looking brunette stands on my doorstand. I lift my brow and lean on the door frame: "Yes?"

"You are Kimberly Mayfield, right? The only girl who has ever made it into men's national team?"

"Uh, yeah, that's me. Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I am Irene Baker, younger sister of Bill Baker."  
"Oh, one of the guys from the U. Uh, come on in, don't stand in the middle of the hall."  
"Oh, no, it's okay. I was wondering if you would like to join us? I thought maybe you are missing some, ya know, girls company…"  
"That's really kind of you, Irene. But I think I will have to pass today, lots of things happened and I am kinda tired…"  
"No problem, I understand. After all, my brother is a hockey player too. Here's my room number and I also wrote down when we usually hang out, so if you ever feel like hanging out when you are here… just knock on the door and if I am in my room, I will be more than glad to hang out with you."  
I offer her wide smile: "Thank you so much. The longer I am staying here, the more I believe I will need some girl company."

"You are a hero for actually being able to get along with them."

The smile on my face turns a bit sour and forced, but she doesn't seem to notice. Good, because I am sure her brother is one of the guys who is against the idea of possibly having a girl as a teammate.

"Yeah, lucky me. Uh, Irene, do you mind if I visit you later or maybe tomorrow? I have something to do…"  
"Sure, no problem. I guess I shouldn't have knocked like that," she grins, revealing two perfectly straight lines of teeth.

"Oh, no, it's okay. It's just, I was just about to call my parents to let them know how am I doing."  
"Sure thing, no problem. So, I guess I will see ya around?"  
"That's for sure. Thanks again for invitation."

"No problem," she smiles for the last time before strolling down the hall and disappearing into what appears to be her room. I close the door and hurry to the phone in my room. Instead of calling my parents, I call Ali. She answers after the fifth ring, just before I put the phone down.

"Yeeeees?" she slurs. Oh, great, she is drunk.

"Hey, Ali, it's me. Kimberly, your best friend?"  
"Oh, K-immy," she giggles and I am really close to cancelling this call. Ali normally doesn't drink, but when she does…this happens.

"Yeah, listen, just checking how's everything back at the University."

"Lo, it's Kimmy!" her drunken yelling makes me realize she doesn't really care what is my purpose for calling her. After what sounds like a bit of roughing, sober voice speaks up instead of drunk Ali: "Kim, is this really you?"  
"Lauren? Is everything alright?"  
"Yeah, don't worry. Oh, my god."

I hear loud hollering in the background and disgusted "ewwww" which makes me believe someone, possibly Ali, threw up.  
"It's barely afternoon, what is going on?"  
"Well, Alice here recently got elected for the captain of the team and that's how we celebrate."

Ali became a captain? How? When?

"Ali is a captain?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

She sounds so sad. I know she wanted to be the captain so bad, even though she never said that out loud. I don't know why coach O didn't pick her. Out of all girls I know, she is the most capable one. And responsible.

"Well…"

I start telling her about my punishment, but I keep the troubles I have with one specific Boston player for myself. After I finish telling her everything that had happened in the last few weeks, she sighs: "Kim, get your shit together. Don't fuck up this chance you had been given. Many of us would kill to be in your place and you get into a fight? Please, don't do this. Suck it up and play by their rules."

Unintentionally, I ruffle my hair and sigh: "I wish I could do that, but those guys are…they don't seem to accept me. I wish I never got here…"  
"Shut up with this bullshit and listen to me. This is your chance to prove yourself. Stop whining, stop getting into senseless fights and just play your game by their rules. You are still one of the best players I know, don't forget that."

Even though she scolds me through the phone, it seems like she is right next to me and that brings tears to my eyes. I choke out: "Lo, thank you so much. I will stop acting like that and I will not let anything get in my way, I promise. When you will next see me, I will have my Olympic gold."  
"That's the spirit. Show them who Kimberly Mayfield really is. And don't forget us."  
"I won't. and you keep an eye on Ali for me, okay? Oh, and Lauren? I am sorry you didn't become a captain, you deserved it."  
"Thanks, Kim. I appreciate. Don't worry, Ali is in good hands."  
After short goodbyes, the line is dead. But this conversation inspired me more than I could've ever imagined. Lauren is right, I must not let them get the worst out of me. _  
_


	14. Chapter 13: It's A Minnesotan Thing

CHAPTER 13: IT'S A MINNESOTAN THING

 _ **~BAH'S POV~**_

After practice, Pav and I join the guys from the U as they take us on a small tour around campus on which they, surprise, surprise, point out their favorite spots to hang out and why is that so.

"Mostly cheap beer and chicks," Phil Verchota, the guy I remember from the first day of the tryouts because of the NCAA t-shirt, laughs and smacks Christoff's shoulder. Steve blushes a bit and turns to McClanahan in attempt to change the topic of the conversation.

"Hey, Robby, how's your nose?"

Rob McClanahan, 5'10 tall forward with brown hair and a missing tooth, shrugs his shoulders: "Better. It's not the first time someone punched me in the face…"  
"Bet it's not the last time either," Bill Baker, a blonde defender, chuckles and playfully punches his old teammate's shoulder: "Hey, you play hockey. Don't expect other players to be avoiding your face, just because of your rich pretty boy features."  
Rob huffs and ruffles his hair: "Still have your sense of humor, I see. Well, this pretty boy can easily beat you at one on one game."

"Whenever you are ready," Bill challenges his friend. They glare at each other for a while before both crack into a grins.

"Don't mind them, they like to show off their muscles…they would if they had any to be honest," Verchota explains to Pav and me. We exchange a look and burst into small laugh, while Bill and Mac turn their glares to Verchota, who is nothing but a grinning face now.

"What did you say?" Mac pretends to be hurt and rolls up a sleeve of his T-shirt for a bit. He looks at Phil: "Who doesn't have muscles?"

"A bit more of spinach won't hurt ya, Popeye."

"I'm strong to the finish, 'cause I eats me Spinach, I'm Popeye the sailor man!" Rob sings Popeye's opening song, causing us all to chuckle. Steve pats his friend's shoulder: "We get it, you wanted to be a sailor, but you are a hockey player. Bah, Pav, not all of us are like that. Believe it or not, this guy here is 21. But on the other hand, Verchota is 22, well, will be 23 in December."  
"His point is, the older we get, the bigger morons we are. Or act like we are," Baker adds and shrugs shoulders when he sees Verchota's glare.

"Hey, it's true. So what about you two?"  
I look at Pav and we both shrug shoulders. Since Pav doesn't talk a lot, I am the one to answer: "Normal things guys our age do. Ya know, playing sports, spending time out with friends…well, Pav spends all of his free time on the ice. But ya know, nothing special."

Pav next to me smiles slightly as I mention him spending all of his free time on the ice, but says nothing. That's just him being himself, quiet and small, but hellishly speedy player. Even though we have been teammates for a long time, I don't remember when was the last time I heard him say anything. For him, we could easily say his talent speaks for him.

After a while we sit down in one of the bars Verchota suggested. As soon as we order our drinks, Christoff turns to me: "So, what do you think of Herb?"

I take a sip and answer carefully: "Like a guy who knows what he's doing, but slightly insane. I mean, his sprints…I have never skated that much."  
"You should get used to it. It will become easier."  
"Maybe for you, you guys are his players."  
This time Baker answers before Christoff: "Not with Herbie. He might has been our coach for three or four years, but don't expect him to make any differences. You remember what he said after he called the 27 names on a roster?"  
" 'I will be your coach, I won't be your friend.'" Pav responds quietly and takes a sip of his drink.

"Exca- Wait, did you really talk?" Rob seems honestly surprised, just like the rest of the guys from the U. What they don't know is, Pav has never really been a chatterbox and from an accident not many people know about, his need to talk has decreased.

Pav looks at McClanahan and slowly nods: "Yeah. I can talk."

"S-Sorry, didn't mean anything bad by it. It's…"  
"What he wants to say is, we haven't heard you talk since the first day."

"Hey, Mac, are you okay?" Baker asks his teammate as he notices McClanahan zoning out and staring somewhere in the distance.

"Hello, are you okay?" I wave my hand in front of his face and he shakes his head: "Yeah, yeah, I am fine."

 _ **~MAC'S POV~**_

For a second I thought I saw my fiancée walk in with some guy holding her hand. I shake that thought out of my head, when I see her again and this time I am sure it's her. No other girl can walk the way she does, with such self- confidence and pride.

"Excuse me for a bit," I excuse myself and get up. Hesitantly, I approach her: "Jessica?"  
"Mac? What are you doing here, I though you were with your team."  
"I am. We are right over there," I point at the table where the rest of the boys is and she looks at them. I notice Verchota leaning to Bah and whisper something to his ear. Bah then looks at me and nods, leading me to suspect Verchota told him who is this and now everything makes sense.

"Is that really Philly? And Billy?"  
"Yeah, we are actually almost on the team. And who is this?"

"Oh, this is Matthew, a guy from my high school. Matt, this is my boyfriend Robby McClanahan."  
"Actually, I am her fiancé."

Matt smiles and stretches out his arm: "Don't worry, man, Jess is just showing me around. I might transfer to the U and Jess was so kind to show me around. Beside, I am also engaged."  
When he says he is engaged, a huge burden falls off my shoulders. I know guys on the campus like to look after Jess and she knows that.

"Mac, there is no need to be worried, okay?" Jessica holds my hand and I look down at her, at her eyes which have been driving me crazy since the day our gazes met on her first day at the U when I was in my second year. I slowly nod: "Okay. Well, if you want to join me and the guys, we are right over there."  
"Thanks, but I will show Matt around some more. Maybe later?"  
"If we will still be here, you are welcome to join us. Both of you," I quickly add and glance at Matt. Then I lean down and kiss Jess before walking back to the table where the rest of the guys are. As soon as I sit down, Bill leans closer and asks: "Was that really Jess with some guy?"  
"Yeah. They were schoolmates in high school and he might be transferring to the U next year, so Jess is showing him around."

"This excuse seems a bit… too made up to be believable," Verchota looks at the direction where Jess was only a few moments ago.  
"He is engaged, Grumpy. And Jess wouldn't do that to me. I know she wouldn't."

"Speaking of girls…what do you think of our teammate?"

"I think she is a great player."

"She is, otherwise she wouldn't be here."

"I know girls can play hockey too and everything, but I don't think she can play on the same level as we do. Once one of us will use too much force and she will be gone."  
We all agree on what Bah said. No matter how hard she works or skates, she can't be equal to us. Somehow, we start talking about the team and consequently, about the incident from the first practice.

"Hey, Mac, what was that punch about? When O'Callahan went after you?" Christoff asks and takes a sip of his beer.  
"Honestly, I don't know. But it was nothing…what he did to Kimberly was the lowest thing I have ever seen."

"I understand they got into a fight, I think they needed that. Going by the glares they were giving each other. But when he started punching her when she was on the ice… that's the cheapest thing," John speaks up and probably sums up what we all think about Jack using all of his strength on her.  
"She didn't stand a chance once he sat on her chest," Christoff agrees and ruffles his hair.

"Hey, do you guys think there is something between Brots and her? He seems to like her…"  
"I thought I was the only one to think that! He is crushing hard on her," I chuckle and look around the table if anyone disagrees. But it appears we all think the same think. Even more, Verchota continues: "I think if they ended up together, they would be really cute. I mean, he really makes sure she is okay."

"And she seems to like him too."  
"Or she is being nice. After all, he is the first guy she met on the tryouts and he introduced us to her. But I agree, they would be a cute couple."

 _ **~NEAL'S POV~**_

Just as I stretch out on my bed, someone knocks on the door. With a quiet groan, I get up and pull on a shirt, which I have just discarded. When I open the door, I realize I should probably put some pants on as well, not just open up in my underwear.

"Kim! Uh, give me a second, okay?"

I close the door before she can answer and hear her chuckle quietly: "Don't worry, Neal, no hurry."

Once I am decent enough to host a teammate in my room, I open the door again, but my cheeks are still red. She giggles at the sight of me and waltzes in.

"Ya know, ya didn't have to get all dressed up because of me," she laughs a bit when she sits on my bed.

"Is everything okay?"

I remain standing by the door and look at her. When Jack said in the locker room if I am crushing on her, I didn't want to admit, especially not to myself, let alone some guy who would probably spill the news as soon as he would get a chance, but I think I might be catching feelings for her.

"Nope, nothing. I just realized you always wait for me, but we have never really hung out. And since you are a student here…could you show me around a bit?"

Her request surprises me. And makes me feel honored at the same time.

"Just give me few minutes, okay?"  
"Are you okay, Neal?" she chuckles and crosses her legs. She sees me looking at her and quickly puts legs back on the floor: "Oh, I am sorry…"  
"No, no, it's okay, make yourself comfortable. I just need to put on something else, it would be really awkward if I took you around the campus in what I am wearing right now.

Five minutes later she is still here and I let her borrow my Golden Gophers hoodie. She is not the smallest, but the hoodie makes her look like she put on an oversized red potato bag. I stretch out my hand and smile: "Are you ready, m'lady?"  
She giggles and puts her small hand in mine: "As I will ever be, kind sir."  
As soon as we exit the building, she smiles up at me: "Thanks for lending me your hoodie. I would freeze without it."  
"No problem. So, how did you come up with the idea of paying me a visit?"  
"I don't know. I just realized you have been taking care of me since the day one, yet I never took time to hang out with you. Is it okay with you…that I visited you, I mean?"

She seems really concerned I might not be okay with her knocking on my door and I can't help with give her a quick hug. Well, not a hug, I drape my hand over her shoulders and pull her to my side. She squeaks a bit as she bumps against me: "Ouch."

"Are you- Oh, your ribs, right?"

"I am okay, it just sting a bit. Don't worry."

Even though she says she is okay, I keep the distance from that moment on. Few minutes pass in a comforting silence until I am the one to speak up: "How come you didn't come back after Herb called you off the ice?"

She sighs and slightly ruffles his hair: "He forbade me to practice with you for a week. That's the final warning before he will send me back and I have to behave."

"In my opinion, he deserved that. I mean, it's not nice what they say to you…"  
"But, they are right. I may be good, but I don't know if I am good enough to be here. after all, you guys are college players, each one of you could smash me against the boards and…"  
"Did you see Johnson? He looks like he will break in half if someone smacks him against the boards."  
"But did you see the way he plays?"  
"Oh, come on, you are a great player as well. Don't make them doubt in yourself, okay?"

She looks up at me and her eyes are glimmering slightly with small tears: "You really think I am that good?"  
"If I didn't, I wouldn't say that. Hey, let me show you one place I am sure you'll love."

I take her to the Brick House, an outdoor stadium of our football team. It's completely dark, but we still see goal posts as skeletons over the field.

"Shall we climb those?"

By the smile she has I know, there are no words needed. I expect her to struggle to climb it, but she only needs me to lift her up a bit so she can reach it. In a next second, she is sitting on a goal post and smiling down at me: "Come on, Neal, don't be a slow poke!"

"I'll give you a slow poke."  
Soon I join her on the horizontal goal post and we quietly enjoy the view from it.

"Never thought you can climb like that," I say after few moments of silence. She chuckles: "Girls go to gym as well."

I look at her and smile a bit: "Now I believe you do." She turns to me: "Thanks again for everything. I would probably given up if you didn't help me the first day."  
"You wouldn't. You don't seem like a quitter."  
"Well, you know me too well, Neal," she leans her head on my shoulder and I wrap one arm around her. She sighs happily: "Thank you for taking me here."  
"You like it?"

"I love it."

Our eyes lock for a second too long and before I know what am I doing, I lean down and press my lips against her. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't pull away. I feel her lips curve into a smile as she gently kisses me back. When we pull apart, we are both smiling.

"I am sorry, Kim."  
"Don't be. That's probably the best kiss I have ever gotten. You have a talent, Minnesotan," she winks and I blush a bit: "I think we should slowly go back. Herb will kill us if we won't give everything we can tomorrow."  
"Yeah, we should go. Sorry for dragging you out."  
"Can't say I didn't enjoy. Hey, wanna go to lunch tomorrow with me? After practice?"  
She jumps off the goal post and looks back up at me: "I would love to, Neal."


	15. Chapter 14: One Team Two Sides

CHAPTER 14: ONE TEAM. TWO SIDES

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

The next day I wake up earlier and call Lauren to check up on Ali. She will probably kill me, but I have to know. I have to know how my best friend and a new captain overcame her hangover.

"Yeeeeeees?" Lauren yawns into a phone.

"Loo, it's me. Just checking how is Ali?"

"You know it's like six A.M.?"

"I know and I am sorry for waking you up, but…"  
"She got alcohol poisoning. Alec took her to hospital."  
Ali has never been that drunk she had to be taken to a hospital. Usually I was the one to be passed out on the couch or on the floor, but never Ali.

"Is she okay now?"  
"She is fine. Don't worry. Well, since you woke me up you can tell me how are you? Excluding sweet, but mouthy Kimberly getting into fights and arguments. Any cute guys?"

"Loo!" I laugh and blush slightly. Should I tell her or not?

"Who is this special guy? Come on, he has to be really nice to replace Alec?"

It takes few moments for me to realize what she has just said.

"Kim, are you still with me?"  
"What did you say about Alec?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know," she sounds surprised. I laugh a bit, letting her know she has not convinced me. But she remains serious: "I am not joking, Kim."  
"Alec is a guy every girl has a crush on. And I know this may sound weird and god help me if this comes out, but Alec started talking to me only when coach O told me to try out for the team."  
"You might be right. So, tell me, who is this guy? How old is he and where does he play? What is he like?"  
"His name is Neal…"  
"Surname?"  
"Broten. Why do you wanna know?"  
"So I know what will your last name be after the university. Okay, go on. Where is he from and where does he play and is he good?"

"Too many questions! He is really nice and been helping me since the day one. And believe me, I am sure he had to go through lots of teasing and remarks in the locker room. I mean, I heard one of them accusing him before he asked me out…"  
"You went out with him?"  
I laugh a bit at how clearly excited she is: "Relax, Loo! He is from Roseau, Minnesota and plays for the University of Minnesota. And yes, I went out with him yesterday, he showed me around campus a bit…"  
"How old is he?"

"Nineteen. Few days older than me."

Clearly satisfied with information I gave her, she chuckles: "I want to meet this guy. Has to be a score if you forget about Alec Walker."  
"Loo, knock it of with Alec, nothing would ever happen, trust me. Beside, he is not really my type."

 _He is not enough of a fighter_ , I think to myself and immediately become angry at myself. The guy I was thinking about was not a calm and always caring Neal Broten, but a guy that makes my blood boil even at the thought of him.

"Whatever you say," she chuckles and continues "Hey, listen up. Coach O brought a new girl to the team for a next season. Well, introduced us to her… the point is, there's a possibility of one girl spending the entire next season on the bench. One of the senior players."  
I hang onto the warning in her words. What she was trying to say was that all of us have to work harder now. After all, some of us older players want to continue playing hockey for living and that won't be possible if we will be benched most of the games.

"Are you joking?"  
"Sadly, no. We tried to tell him that we all need chances, but he said he wants his best players to show their skills."  
She is concerned. Going by her voice, she is really concerned. Lauren Bergam-Hill might be a great leader, but she doesn't get much time on the ice. Last season was especially tough for her since she has been injured most of the time and relied on painkillers to keep her going.

"Loo…"  
"I know he will bench me. And it's my last season next year."  
"Not if we practice together."  
"But you are in Minnesota. And then god knows where you will go."  
"Then come here."

She laughs a bit: "Like my parents would let me. If I was 21, I would do that, but I can't do it yet."

"You are only few months away from being 21."  
"Kim, thank you so much, but I can't do this. But if your offer will still be valid when you get back, give me a call. Okay?"

"We have a deal. Loo, keep an eye on Ali for me, okay?"

"I will. Kim, don't forget. Stop getting into stupid fights and work your ass out, okay?"  
"I won't. Thanks for everything, Loo."

Just as I put down the phone, someone knocks on the door. I get out of bed and open the door, revealing coach Brooks: "Mayfield, strength and conditioning practice in thirty minutes. Extra mile for every minute of being late."  
"Yes, coach! I will be ready."

He only nods and closes the door. Before heading into a shower, I hear him knock on the next door and repeat the same message to the guys next door.

Thirty minutes later I am waiting with other guys for coaches to show up. Almost all of us wear shorts in T-shirts from our University eventhough we did get the Team USA gear. I find myself next to Gary Ross, a 25-year-old defense player from Roseau, Minnesota (the same city Neal comes from), who currently plays in Klagenfurt, Austria.

"Where's your guard?"

"What are you talking about?"  
"Broten. And how he is always around you so no one of big bad hockey players hurt you."

I look up at him and let out an annoyed sigh: "You guys really have some serious issues. First O'Callahan, then Delich and now even you. Guess it must suck being stuck in 1930s or 40s when women were supposed to do nothing else but take care of a family."  
"It must suck having to prove yourself worthy to your parents by pretending to be a guy."

I take a deep breath, repeating Loo's words in my head over and over again. _It's not worth being sent home because of this. It's not worth being sent home because of this. It's not worth being sent home because of this._ So I smile sweetly: "It's sweet how much you know me."

Clearly, he was expecting me to lose it again and to start a fight. When I don't, he goes away and soon after, Neal takes his spot.

"You okay? Ya seem kinda tense."  
"I am fine. Just some of the guys are still not over the fact I might be their teammate."  
Quickly, before anyone can notice, he squeezes my hand like he is trying to assure me everything will be fine.

"Don't bother, okay? You deserve this."  
"And you are not just saying this because yesterday?"  
"No, not at all," he blushes a bit. I smile and gently return his hand a squeeze before coaches show up. Coach Brooks is accompanied by his assistant coach, Craig Patrick, and a trainer, Gary Smith,

"Today we'll be working on your off ice condition until lunch and then we will practice on the ice. Gary will tell you your schedule until the lunch and I better not see you slacking off. But before that, as for the warm up, I want you to run to St. Paul campus and back."

Minnesotans, who attend the U, look at each other and I see few of them roll their eyes. The guy from the U, who is standing the closest to me, is Bill Baker and I gently tug on the sleeve of his shirt. He looks at me: "What's up, Kim?"

"What's the distance between the two campuses?"

"Approximately 3 miles. In one way."  
I gulp hard at the thought of the distance we have to run. 3 miles in one way? Yeah, I can easily say I have never worked so much like I do now.

"Everything okay, Mayfield?"

"Y-Yeah, I just think 3 miles is too much, coach."

Dead silence falls upon the team and even coaches look at Herb, who only squints his eyes and takes a step closer. I back up, but bump into Wells, who holds me still.

"Are you trying to tell me, Mayfield, that you are not in shape?"

"I-I am, coach, I just think that's a bit too much, I mean, you have only just…"  
"Do you want to be sent home? If you want, I can send your ass back home before you can say Lake Placid."  
"No, coach. I am sorry," I look down, biting my lip. _Great move, Kim. Real smooth._

"Alright, let's go!'

When we get back, I can say we all look pretty worn out. Except maybe for the Gophers, which makes me believe this is their common practice. Somehow, I end up next to McClanahan: "Hey, Rob, do you often run between two campuses?"

He ruffles his hair before flashing me his gap between teeth: "Yeah, we have done it several times. It was the worst when Herbie had us running this after a night out. You should've seen us, we were all effed up."

"Lemme guess, drinks all night?"  
"One of the guys was 21, of course we went a bit wild."

I chuckle: "Yeah, it was the same when one of the girls on the team turned 21 and got her driving license. We had a game the next morning… of course we lost, but Loo, our alternate captain still managed to score three goals."  
"Loo?"  
"Lauren. Sorry, I am used to calling her Loo."

"Team nicknames… They are usually something special, aren't they? What did they call you?"

"Uh, Kim, Kimmy, K.M. or just K. Also sometimes Big Mouth because of my talking back…what about you?"  
"Rob, Robby, Mac, sometimes Gap, because of this beauty," he grins and reveals the same gap again.

"Suter knocked my tooth out few years ago."  
"But you didn't have this gap on the tryouts…"  
"Fake tooth. I put it out when playing."  
"Why are you even putting it back in, I think this gap suits you. It really does."

"Thanks," he smiles.

"Hey, McClanahan!" John Harrington calls him and waves him over. Rob squeezes my shoulder: "Guess I'll see ya later."

With those words he is gone, but we have no time to chat whatsoever. Our trainer gathers us up and takes us to the gym. While most of the guys want to lift weights, I really hope I will get to work on my legs. Especially now, when I will be skating with guys, I need my legs to be prepared for everything. Coach Smith divides us into groups and sends each group to work on different muscles.

Halfway through the practice, my muscles feel like they are on fire and if it wasn't for making the team or not, I would probably stop by now. One of the hardest exercises was when coach lined up with back against the wall and "sit on invisible chairs" as he put it nicely. While doing so, we had to pass the 35-pound weight to each other. Even few of the guys with developed muscles struggled, let alone me and those guys who don't look like rocks. But the fact I am still here and the coaches consider me as one of the guys, keeps me going. If those guys can do everything they are told, so can I. But everything goes downhill when we get to lifting weights. Still wanting to prove myself, I try to lift more than I have ever tried. For a second or two it seems there will not be any trouble, but then I hear and feel something in my elbow crack. With a yelp, I let go off the weight and nearly drop it on my foot.

"Kim!" Baker is the first one to notice that and the first one to be by my side. With a healthy hand I hold my injured elbow tight and repeat: "I am fine, I am fine, don't worry bout me. I will be alright."

"No, Kim, you won't be. Can you stretch out your arm?"

"Y-Yes, I can."

But my words turn out to be a lie when I try to lift my arm. My elbow starts to hurt even more and I shake my head, desperate tears now gather in my eyes: "I-I can't. I can't lift my arm, Bill."

"Wait here, I'll go get Doc."

With that he is gone and slowly few of the other guys gather around me as well. Christoff kneels down next to me: "What happened?"

"She tried to be one of us, that's what happened," I hear all too familiar voice with Boston accent almost above me.

"Come on, Jack, can't you give her a break at least for a bit?" Steve sighs without looking at toothless blonde.

"Why do you care, Steve, you don't think she belongs here either."  
"That doesn't mean I have to give her hard time all the time whenever I get a chance. How is your elbow?" tall Minnesotan asks and looks at me. I look at him, but only thing I can hear it's what Jack said. "You don't think she belongs here either."

"He asked you something, Brown, in case you didn't hear."

"Come on, OC, give her a break. Rif is right, you don't have to think she belongs here to at least try and be nice to her," Silk sighs and kneels down next to Steve.

"Are you okay?"

"I will survive."

I see both boys being a bit taken aback from the tone in my voice, but I really don't want them to think I am helpless. And Jack's comments only add oil to fire as I stand up and look at him: "You must be really proud of yourself. Trying to prove how tough are you by making others feel worthless."

"Come on, you two! Knock it off already!" Rizzo pushes us apart and I realize in all that anger I stood few inches away from the guy I want to see dead more than anyone I have ever met.

"He started it all!"  
"And you don't seem to mind!"

"Because I know I can outsmart you!"  
"Oh, can you? How? Lemme tell you something, _Kim,_ half of the guys think you have nothing, absolutely nothing to do here. Nothing, nada, nichts, rien, you hear me?"

"I bet you are the only one who thinks so," I whisper quietly, but I know I am about to find out he is not the only one. He is just the only one who is not afraid to tell me that. Or show in any way necessary. And that hurts, it hurts not being accepted.

"I am sorry to tell you that, sweetie, but I am not. Christoff, Silk, Delich, Harrington, Verchota, Strobel, Wellsie, Rizzo, McClanahan, Suter, Rammer, Horsch, Cox, Hughes, Auge."  
I look at each of the guys he names and see he's not making things up since each and single one of them looks down or at the wall. Christoff and Silk stand up quickly and look at Jack: "You really can't pick a better moment."  
"Just making sure she knows the truth."

The smirk in his voice can be clearly heard and I know he has been dying to see me break. I get up and storm out of the gym before Bill gets the Doc or, more importantly, before I start crying in front of them and lose this little bit of respect I might have.

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

"You got what you wanted now?" Harrington asks me, rolling his eyes. I shrug my shoulders: "I just told her the truth. And don't even try to deny, you are against the fact she could be our teammate."  
"That's not the point, Jack! What he tried to tell you is, you should at least try and tell her that a bit nicer." McClanahan sticks with him.

"You are just too polite to tell her that."  
"And you enjoyed telling her that too much," Neal looks at me. I smirk and shrug my shoulders again: "If she can't play by our rules, she has nothing to do here. And why don't you go after her if you care so much?"

"Come on, OC," Jimmy sighs and pulls Neal back a bit "Neal, it's not worth it."

"Let's get back to work, okay?" Rizzo exhales deeply and heads back to the treadmills. The rest of the boys follow him, except for Silky, who stays by me a bit longer. My long term teammate shakes his head and looks at me again: "OC, I know you don't like her. But you don't have to act like that. Did you see what had you done to her?"

"What is she doing here if she can't take the criticism."  
"She can take it better than most of us. I am just saying, whether you like it or not, she is here at least for now. And at least try to behave like she is one of us, not like she is, I dunno, trash."

Then he leaves and I think of his words again. If a guy who has known me for that long and was my teammate back at the BU says that… then maybe I really treated her worse than I usually treat people I don't like. And I swear I will never say that again, but I feel sorry. I feel sorry for how I acted towards her.

 _ **~NEAL'S POV~**_

"Neal, it's nice you care for her so much, but don't always do that, don't always stand up for her. You are making it as clear as a day you have a crush on her," Buzzy pats my back while are working leg exercises.

"Doesn't matter if I have it or not, she doesn't deserve to be treated like that. I am sorry, Buzz, but she really doesn't. And if no one of you will say a damn thing…then I will," I say and adjust the weights. He sighs a bit and glances at the wedding ring on his ring finger. I seize the opportunity: "Ya miss her?"  
"Yeah, I do. Sometimes I just want to go back and spend some time with Gayle. But don't change the subject."  
"There is nothing to say, Buzz."  
"Then you need someone to teach you how to sneak around. Baker said he saw you as you were leaving the dorm with her… does that sound familiar?"

Instead of denying it, I nod and blush hard: "I might asked her out. I showed her around the campus a bit and…"  
"And…?"

I feel my lips curve into a tiny smile, which grows wider and wider with each passing second: "I kissed her on the football field."

Buzz's eyes grow wide and he nearly stops exercising for a bit: "You _kissed_ her? What if anyone finds out? What if Herb finds out?"

"No one will find out. It meant nothing."  
"It must've meant something to both of you! Congrats, Neal, but also…are you out of your mind?"  
"It just happened, Buzz. Why ya making the scene out of it?"

Older Minnesota alumni shakes his head: "No wonders you want her to stay…"  
"That has nothing to do with it. Why does the other half of guys want her to stay then?"  
"Because we want to prove other people a girl can play on the same level as we do and maybe beat us at our own game."  
"Exactly. But… did you ever think a girl could separate us this much? I mean, look at us, one half wants her to stay, the other half wants her to leave even though they admit she is good…"  
"While Jack just wants her to leave," Buzz adds and we both look at the direction of a tall Charlestown player, now lifting weights with other players from Boston U.


	16. Chapter 15: Recovery

CHAPTER 15: RECOVERY

"How is Kimberly, Doc?" coach Patrick asks team doctor George Nagobads. The doc takes a deep breath before looking at coach standing in front of him.

"I will be honest, Craig, I am very concerned for her. Not only because of injury, but also because of how far could her determination bring her. I am worried those injuries are only the beginning and that once she realizes that it will be too late for her."

"What about her elbow? Will she be ready to practice?"

"Not today, no. Her injury can get worse."

"I will talk to Herb. Thank you, Doc."

"Herb, doc said Kim's injury could get worse if she practices today."

Herb looks at his assistant for a bit before saying quietly: "I am worried about her."  
"Doc said that as well. He said that she is trying too hard."  
"I want my players to work hard, but what she does… it's not healthy anymore. Is there something else I should know?"

"It may be nothing, but I think she separates them. Their opinions about girl playing on men's team…they are really divided."  
"Craig, I am aware of that, but honestly, do you think that's the greatest obstacle?"

Craig Patrick thinks for a second before saying: "No. I think there is much more."  
"They just have to get used to it. And they better do it soon before they get sent home."  
"Have you thought of who are you going to send home?"  
"If the Olympic Committee doesn't get back to me soon, I am afraid I will have to send her home."

"Issues with her playing?"

"Yes. But she doesn't need to know that. Nor any of the guys, I am afraid they would tell her."

"Don't worry, Herb, what you told me stays in here."

After Herb is left alone in his office, the same one he has been using ever since he became a head coach of the Golden Gophers, he glances over twenty-seven names on the roster. Even though he won't admit that to anyone, he sometimes worries if he made the right choice and if taking the risk will pay off. He remembers he said to the Committee his plan is to beat the Soviets, but as the time to the Games is approaching, his concerns grow. He knows the team could make it, but only if he finds the right players. And so far it seems like they are not willing to become a team. It may not seem like he is knows, but he is aware of hateful relationship between young forward from Brown and to him all too familiar fighter from Boston University. Especially after that playoffs in 1976. He knows why she is trying to prove herself so much and throwing Jack or her off the team would not get the affect he wanted. Even though it may sound weird, he knows John J. O'Callahan is responsible for Kimberly's effort to become a player, worth staying on the team. And from analyzing Kim's behavior, Herb is sure there is no thing in a world she wouldn't do to make the final team. If that meant cutting her hair, he assumes she would do that. To be a bit extreme, he is sure she would completely let the tomboy part of her overtake who she is now.

His next problem is how to convince Olympic Committee to allow a talented and hardworking player like she is to participate in Lake Placid. Choosing her over one of the other guys from the tryouts was one of the riskiest decisions he has ever made. However, he still had few guys, who did not make the roster, on his mind in case something goes to hell. With one of them, Tim Harrer, he has an agreement he'd give Timmy a call if needed. He has known him for quite some time now since the six-foot tall right-winger was one of his players at the University of Minnesota. He was a good player with a great vision on the ice and an amazing ability to set up the play.

Herb knows picking the team of twenty young men will be hard, but not as hard as convincing Olympic committee to allow the girl play.

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

"What do you mean I can't practice tonight?! I have to if I want to-"  
"Kim, the injury could get worse and if that happens, you won't be able to go to the Olympics."

"But what I get tossed off the roster because of that?"

"Coach Brooks might demand a lot, but he doesn't want his players' injuries get worse if they push themselves too much."

I stare at coach Patrick bluntly, trying to comprehend what he told me. That Doc said if I don't want my elbow getting even more injured, it would be better for me to rest a bit. And not practicing.

"But coach said I am not allowed to practice with other guys until he says so."

"Miss Mayfield, please, listen to Doc. He thinks practicing today and tomorrow would be a bad idea which could lead to worsening your current state."

I sigh a bit: "I guess I won't practice today then."

"It's for the best. Rest up a bit and don't do anything that could affect on your elbow, okay?"

"Okay, coach."

As he nearly exits the room, I plaster a sweet and innocent smile on my cheeks and ask: "Does holding a book count as a heavy weight and possible threat for my elbow?"

He turns around: "Are you joking?"  
"No, coach, I am dead serious."

His lips flutter a bit as he tries not to crack a grin: "Only if it's not too heavy."

With those words he leaves the room and gives me privacy I need to change into everyday clothes. While pulling a sleeve on, I cringe in pain. A sharp sting in ribs mixed with freshly messed up elbow hurts like hell and I am not sure if I would be able to play today either way. I just really hope I won't be sent home because of this.

To waste some of the time, I dig out the diary from my bag and see when the last entry was. When I notice it was during the tryouts, I am really surprised. So many things had happened since I last took this small and to me precious secret holder, it seems to me like it has ages since I last had some time to write.

 _Dear diary,_

 _I don't even know where to start. So many things has happened and it has been_ _insane_ _. Remember when I told you about Jack pissing me off? Well, we took things a bit further and actually got into a fight. All I can say is that I am glad he didn't break any bones, that guy can really fight. And there is another thing. Half of the team dislikes_ _me_ _the idea of a girl playing on their team. I am not saying they are being mean or sexist… they just don't think I can handle playing on the same level as they do. But the other half of the guys… it seems like they really want to give girl a shot in proving herself. And I don't remember if I told you about Neal. He is one of the guys who have been supporting the idea of me being here. Well…we went out. And we kissed. I don't know what does that mean, but I have fun when I am with him. He is probably the most caring, adorable and protective guy I have met and seems like an easy-going and not-in-a-hurry type of guy. Speaking of him, I have a lunch date with him today. Let's just hope no one will find out. Oh, and Herb already gave us a schedule of exhibition games. I can't believe first game will be played against Holland in September! I am actually going to Europe! If I don't get cut of course._

 _Well, that's it for now, I will get back to you with more news soon,_

 _K._

 _P.S.: Not only my ribs are effed thanks to Jack, but also I injured my elbow today_

After closing the diary and locking it, I put the key back on the necklace where I keep it and clip the necklace. I know, this is dangerous, but that's one of the ways to keep a key to my diary close to me and under a watchful eye. With the corner of my eye I catch the glimpse of a book on my nightstand. _The Shining_ by Stephen King. One of the books Loo recommended. Even though it may seem like she cares about her boyfriend, hockey and being pretty, there is so much more in that girl. Including her love for books and brain. Actually, I started reading the book before coming to the tryouts, but haven't opened it ever since. And recovery seems like a perfect opportunity to start reading again.

Time passes by quickly while reading and I don't even know what the time is. I get pulled back into reality when someone knocks on the door. Grumbling, I drag myself out of bed and open the door.

"Neal!"  
"Don't tell me you forgot about our lunch," he grins and leans down. His warm lips land on my cheek and his one-day stubble brushes against my skin. I close my eyes and turn my head, so our lips connect into a sweet kiss. I look at him and giggle at his wide eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. I feel my cheeks heat up as well and I pull away.

"Well, that wasn't the smartest idea. Anyone could have seen us," he grins and ruffles his hair.

"Luckily, they didn't. Come on in."

"Sorry, I can't. Herb gave us two hours until the on ice practice."

He notices my face as it darkens with sadness of being remembered I won't be able to attend practice today. About the possibility of being out for more than just a day… don't even wanna think of that scenario.

"Sorry for that. Uh, we don't have to go if you don't want to."

I take his hand in mine and slip out of my room: "C'mon, let's go."  
He laughs quietly as he quietly drags me down the hall. We end up in the university cafeteria and find an empty booth.

"Any recommendations?"

"Lemme order for you. That okay with you?"

One thing I know after our lunch date is that Neal has a great taste. I don't know when was the last time I was that stuffed and had such a fun lunch as I had with Neal. He told me all about his childhood and I shared my experience with growing old, but somehow we ended up talking about other guys on the team.

"I think guys from Minnesota are nicer than Bostonians…"  
"Talkin' 'bout O'Callahan?"  
"Mostly him. But the others… I don't know, I don't get along with them as much as I get with you."  
"Hey, it has been less than a month since we were gathered together. You can't expect to get along with 26 guys."

"You are right. Hey, who do you think will get sent home?"

"I don't know. But I think it will be tough decision for Herb. And Craig. But I really don't know. What about you?"

"Well, call me crazy, but I think Rizzo and Auge don't stand a chance. They are the oldest…"  
"So is Buzzy."  
"Yeah, but it seems to me like Rizzo is not playing hard enough. You understand what I mean?"

A silence falls upon us for a bit before Neal nods his head: "I think you are right. It doesn't seem like he is trying. But on the other hand, he can really motivate others. Just look at how he tries to hold up his mates from Boston."  
"He has leadership abilities, I give him that, but do you think that would be enough?"

"We'll see. How are your elbow and your ribs?"

"Quite okay. Y'know, elbow still hurts a bit because it has just happened. About ribs… I can barely feel a thing."

When I look up at him, I realize I made a mistake. He doesn't believe me for a second. Don't ask me how, I think I sounded pretty convincing.

"Kim, don't push yourself too much. Please, it's not worth it. None of that is worth permanent pain. Think of what could possibly go wrong if you continue pushing yourself."

Our eyes meet and my heart flutters a bit. He is not saying that to make it easier for Herb to send me home, he is genuinely concerned about my wellbeing.

"Tell me one thing. How much shit do the guys give you in the locker room?"

"Truthfully? Too much. But that's okay with me. What matters is how much I enjoy those moments with you."

Slight blush appears on my cheeks at his sweetness and I intertwine my fingers with his.

"So do I, Neal."

"Herb, I have just examined Kim's medical results," Doc knocks on Herb's office just few minutes before the on-ice practice begins. Herb looks up at him, his eyes slightly tired from watching the cardboards with players' names and their photos: "Yes?"

"It'd be better for her not to lift weights for a week. Nothing is broken, but the injury could get worse if she came across something that would be too heavy for her."  
"What about on ice?"

"She can play. But she has to take it easier. Don't push her too much."  
"Those tests I had them taken? They were to see how much and how far I can push them."  
"Emotionally. Herb, if her elbow gets worse, her career is over."

"I will mark your words. And I will also talk to coach Patrick to come up with the recovery plan. Is that okay?"  
"Yes. It is. When the program is prepared, I would like to see it."  
"You will be the one to confirm it. Thank you, Doc."

As if that wasn't enough, Herb had to deal with lawyers and players' representatives. Most of his players was on verge of signing with an NHL team, but Herb didn't want his team consist of pros. Consequently, players and the teams were left in the dark and Herb was in no hurry to pick out the players for his team.

 _ **~KIM'S POV~**_

The next day, Doc presents me to my recovery program. At first I worry I might get tossed out of the team, but he guarantees me there is no such danger, that Herb won't throw me out because of that. Especially if I am going to work hard to make things better.

"Doc, are you sure it will get better? Because if not…then it's easier for all of us if I just leave and maybe guarantee someone a spot."  
"Nothing on this team is for sure. But, believe me, Kimberly, Herb will send you home if you won't try hard enough or if your recovery doesn't go as planned. I got several second opinions on this program and it should be effective. You are allowed to join practices and Herb has been informed what you are allowed to do and what is better to be avoided, at least for now."  
"Is the gym unoccupied now? I would like to start doing those exercises."  
"It is. Just be careful."  
"I will be, thank you, doc."

As soon as he leaves the room, I get changed and head to the gym with a program in my hands. And then it hits me. If I won't work as the program recommends, my chances of staying here are paper-thin. That means no creating my own rules or working out on devices that could worsen my current state.

Motivated to prove Herb keeping me here won't be a mistake, I turn on a treadmill and start running. Let the recovery begin.


	17. Chapter 16: European Tour

CHAPTER 16: EUROPEAN TOUR

 _ **~KIM'S POV~**_

It has been few months since I injured my elbow and today is the last day in the States before we (hopefully!) leave for European tour. I sit down on a wooden chair in Doc's office, waiting anxiously what he has to say. If he says playing hockey will not be good for me, that means I am staying here and that my dreams of playing in the name of every female player who is trying to prove herself among men are over. And only because of some stupid injury…

"Ah, Kim. Here because of your elbow, right? And how are your ribs?"

"Ribs are perfectly fine, excluding occasional stinging. Doc, what about my elbow?"  
He looks up from the stack of papers and sighs: "Kim, I am sorry… but I hope you are ready to leave for Europe."  
"A-Are you serious? This is not a joke? Please, Doc, tell me this is not a sick joke."  
"It's not. But under one condition. You continue with your recovery program until I or any other doctor tells you to stop."  
"Anything, Doc. I am really going to Europe!"

With an excitement flowing, I could say overflowing, through my veins, I nearly fly out of Doc's office. Without even thinking where to go, I head right to Neal's room and knock on his door.

Screwing his eye, he opens the door and blinks few times: "Kim? Everything okay?"

"I am going to Europe!"

"Doc said you can go?"

"Yes! Neal, I am going to Europe with you, I can't believe it!"

He picks me up and quickly spins me around before pulling me into his room. After the door close, he pulls me into a tight hug and mumbles in crook of my neck: "I am so happy you can go with us."  
"So am I, can you believe we'll be going to Europe! I have never been anywhere else but Colorado in Minnesota."

"And you haven't seen much of a Minnesota either," he chuckles, his breath fanning my skin gently.

"I am waiting for you to show me around," I playfully poke his side, causing him to tighten his grip on my waist.

"I will as soon as the Games end. That's what I promise."

For a second or two we just gaze at each other before he leans down and softly places his lips on mine. Closing my eyes, I give in and return him a sweet kiss. I don't know how long we stay like that, I know we jump apart when someone knocks on his door and walks in.

"Whoa, I am sorry," Verchota chuckles and closes the door loudly. My heart freezes and Neal looks like a deer caught in car's headlights. He quickly unwraps his arm from around my waist and he tucks his hands into his pockets: "What's up, Phil?"

"Nothing, nothing. Pretend I am not here, okay?"

Absent-mindedly, I ruffle my hair and look at Phil: "Are you excited for Europe?"  
"Are you going too?" his attention is now completely on me. Holding back a wide grin, I smile and nod: "Yeah, Doc gave me a green light."

"That's awesome! That means your elbow is okay?"  
"That's exactly what it means. I still have to be careful, but that's what it means."  
Verchota pulls me into a tight hug and I am lifted from the ground for the second time.

 **~Holland, September 3** **rd** **1979~**

It's the evening of the first game of the European tour and lightly said, my nerves are a mess. This is the first game we will be playing since the team was put together few months before. And we are still not playing completely as a team. The tension in the confined locker room is so thick it could be cut through.

My stall neighbor is our Californian, as we call him, Eric Strobel. It still surprises me how untouched his face is, compared to evidences of previously broken noses and missing teeth on other guys. He still has all of his teeth, unstitched face and a never-broken nose, not to mention nearly golden blonde locks, peeking from beneath his helmet right now. On my other side is no one else than Phil Verchota, now holding a glaring contest with Bah Harrington. My gaze quickly drifts over to Neal and we share an unannounced smile. Quickly, before anyone can notice, he gives me thumbs up. I smile wider than before and repeat his gesture. Before we break our gaze, he winks, making my cheeks heat up a bit. Still smirking, he pulls helmet on his head and covers that brown locks with blue protective plastic.

When Herb walks in, all of us are geared up, waiting for his sign to get out on the ice and try to prove Herb chose us with a reason.

"Tonight's game is not only your international debut, gentlemen and a lady, it's also the first game you will be playing as a team and I hope you prove you are worth being here."

With those words he leaves, letting us sink in his words and if coach Patrick has something to say to us.

"Well, good luck, boys and Kim. Get ready and we'll see you on the bench."

As soon as the door close, we all exchange a silent glance. Every one of us wants to prove himself worthy this spot. And then there's me. The only girl on the team, who, if it's to believe most of the guys, has nothing to do here. A girl who has never been out of States and her first trip over seas is to play international hockey.

Verchota jabs my side with the end of his stick: "Ready to shine, Brown?"

"As I will ever be. What about you, Philly?"  
"It's just a game," he chuckles, but his voice sounds a bit too nervous.

Less than ten minutes later we are on the ice and the arena booms with loud cheering for the home team. Being number 13, I stand between Coxy, who wears #14 and Jack Hughes, who wears #12. With a corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of O'Callahan, wearing that significant I-am-better-than-you smirk, but there is also a slight shadow of nervousness.

The announcer announces starting lines for Holland team and us. Just before that happens, Herb replaces McClanahan with me on the left wing. That surprises not only both of us, but also the other players. I have always practiced with third line, replacing either Rizzo on the left wing or Neal as a center.

"But, coach…"  
"Mayfield, shut up and get out there. Rob, don't you dare to say anything."  
I shot Rob an apologetic look before I skate on the face off circle, where Johnson is ready for the puck to drop. With the end of his stick, I pat his butt and mumble quietly: "Good luck, Johnson." 

By the end of the second period is pretty obvious we are better. The other team is trailing 6-1. While exiting the ice and on our way to the guests' locker room, we are a bunch of loud players, high fiving each other and patting each other's backs.

"We can do this, boys!" Rizzo shouts as soon as we all pile up in the locker room.

"Only boys, Rizzo?" Neal looks over at you and playfully punches your shoulder. Smirking, you return him a punch and gently smack his helmet with my stick.

"Of course, how could I forget Kim? Nice plays out there, kiddo," Rizzo smiles and reaches me in few steps. He pats my shoulder: "You threw Mac off his spot."  
"She did not!" Mac mumbles from his stall and pulls the tape off his stick.

"Why are you doing this, Mac?"

"Because it was starting to peel off," he explains before re-taping his stick over again, his bottom lip sticking out as he is focusing on his stick. The rest of us wordlessly watch him. This is not the first time he is doing this, but his superstitions never fail to amuse us. Especially Harrington, who once he finds your soft spot, he won't easily quit. And he has hidden Mac's newly taped stick sometimes, just to see his reaction.

"Hey, Mac-"

Whatever Johnson was trying to say gets interrupted when coaches walk in. with anticipation on our faces we look at Herb, who paces back and forth a bit before turning to us.

"If we look at the score, you are playing great. But the score is not everything and you are lucky to have Janny in the net otherwise your asses would be embarrassed out there. Mike, you better start looking where are you skating or at least try to check your opponents, not your teammates."

Mike looks down at his skates and nods wordlessly. But Herb is not done yet. He turns to Mac now, who put down his sticks to listen to him.

"Mac, are you playing that bad on purpose because you are not on the same line with Johnson and Silk or are you that bad only they can make your game look good?"

Silk and Johnson look at their line mate and then at Herb, their faces masks of shock. Mac gulps hard like he is trying to swallow some insults directed towards ruthless coach.

"McClanahan, I am talking to you!"  
Rob quickly glances around the locker room, seeking for some help. All of the guys avoid his gaze and when he finally looks at me, I look away as well. Even without that, my impression is pretty bad and I have a strong feeling my days here are coming to an end. When he gets no response from either of us, Mac looks up at coach and shakes his head: "I am trying my hardest coach…"

"Clearly not hard enough. You will be sitting out the rest of the game."

"You can't do this!"  
"I can and I will. Rizzo, you better play harder than he did."

With that he leaves and the room sinks in silence. Rob, who has always been a guy to give 110% on the ice, stares down at his skates and shakes his head time to time. And even though he is not keen on me being here, he has been nice to me and seeing him like that breaks me. After all, he lost his spot for this game on the first line because of me and his performance is not as good as if it would be if he continued playing with Johnson and Silk. I stand up and slowly approach him: "Mac…"  
"What do you want?"  
His voice is broken and I have a feeling he is slowly breaking.

"I can talk to coach and try to persuade him to put you back on the ice. I can sit this one out."  
Mac shakes his head: "No. You deserved that, you deserved to be a first-liner."

"But…"  
"Shut up. Just score a goal, okay? I don't care how, but score a goal." 

In the middle of the last period, Herb sends us on the ice with O'Callahan and Ramsey as defense. Just before O'Callahan and I jump on the ice, Herb shouts: "OC, don't ignore the girl."

I see Jack roll his eyes before jumping on the ice. Being a player he is, playing physical game, he checks Holland player into the boards and gets the puck. Cold rubber is passes to Ramsey, who passes it back to O'Callahan.

"Brown!" Jack calls out, getting my attention, before he passes me the puck. A second before I get the puck, I remember Mac's words and decide not to let him down. With Silk on a right wing and Johnson filling up my spot, I speed towards the goal down the middle, dodge a defender and slide the puck backwards for Johnson to pick it up. He fakes a pass to Silk and passes the puck to me.

"Shot it, Y/N!"  
With no hesitation, I shoot the puck and watch as it hits the net. A second later the siren goes off, signalizing another scored goal. And I? Well, one second I am firmly on my feet and in another second I am on the ice, four other players on top of me. Yes, four, that means Jack too. After few seconds of rolling around, Johnson helps me up while smiling like an idiot: "Nice shot, Kim."  
"Nice pass, Magic."

'Well, maybe you can be useful," thick Boston accent gets to me and I look at Jack: "Nice check there."  
"I guess. Nice goal."  
Other three guys listen to us with mouths wide open until Ramsey chuckles: "I thought you two hate each other."  
"My opinion hasn't changed, but that was a beautiful goal nonetheless."

At the end of the game the score board shows 8 to 1 for us. After the game ends, we line up for the handshakes and somehow, I end up behind O'Callahan and in front of Neal, who keeps poking my shoulder with his stick until it's his turn to shake hands. The whole procedure stops for a bit when Jack gets to shake that guy's, who he has flattened, hand.

"Good game, but you are still an asshole."  
"Save the sweet words for your girl," Jack laughs and for a second it seems the other guy is about to punch him. Knowing Jack, he wouldn't hesitate to return him a favor and teach him how players from Charlestown fight. So I gently push him forward: "C'mon, Jack, move on."  
"Well, I'll see you again in two days. Be prepared." 

Two days later the same team falls again, this time with a score of 11 to 4. Johnson and Cox become best scores, recording a hat trick each. Only Johnson is named the MVP with five assists, resulting in total of 8 points.

After playing Holland team, we pack our bags and put them on the bus before heading to Finland. Long bus rides seems shorter with Pavelich playing his guitar, mostly old songs about traveling.

One night, when most of the team is either hibernating or sleeping, I sit down next to him: "Can ya play Homeward Bound?"

He is the last person I would expect the answer from, so seeing him smirk and nod it's enough for me. But it surprises me when he starts singing quietly while his fingers strum the guitar strings.

 _I'm sitting in the railway station.  
Got a ticket to my destination.  
On a tour of one-night stands my suitcase and guitar in hand.  
And every stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band.  
Homeward bound,  
I wish I was,  
Homeward bound,  
Home where my thought's escaping,  
Home where my music's playing,  
Home where my love lies waiting  
Silently for me._

 _Every day's an endless stream  
Of cigarettes and magazines.  
And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories  
And every stranger's face I see reminds me that I long to be,  
Homeward bound,  
I wish I was,  
Homeward bound,  
Home where my thought's escaping,  
Home where my music's playing,  
Home where my love lies waiting  
Silently for me._

 _Tonight I'll sing my songs again,  
I'll play the game and pretend.  
But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity  
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.  
Homeward bound,  
I wish I was,  
Homeward bound,  
Home where my thought's escaping,  
Home where my music's playing,  
Home where my love lies waiting  
Silently for me.  
Silently for me._

Later, when he stops playing, I rest my head on the window and watch as the unknown flies past us in darkness. Just as I close my eyes, someone shakes me awake. The intruder sits behind me and I look back: "Yeah?"  
"Was that song your idea?"  
"So if it was, Jack."  
"Just asking," he sounds kinda offended. What did he expect? A friendly chat? We are certainly not in good relations for something like that.


	18. Chapter 17: Herbies In The Dark

CHAPTER 17: HERBIES IN THE DARK

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

A fortnight later we are facing Norway "B" Team and after losing two games out of eight, our confidence is pretty boosted up. Still, the locker room isn't exactly booming with shouts when Neal and I walk in.

Before we enter the locker room, Neal leans down, quickly and gently pressing his lips against mine. I smile into a kiss and mumble against his lips: "Good luck tonight."  
"To you too. And don't worry, we have your back."

"You don't have to, Mousey," I pull away from him and shake my head, causing few strands of my hair fall forward. Giving me a small smile, Neal tucks the hair behind my ear and lightly pecks my forehead, letting his lips linger there for few second before pulling away.

When we walk into the locker room, his arm is hanging loosely on my shoulder, while his other hand is tucked in his pocket. My arm is resting on his back while I am holding my stick with the other one. As soon as the guys notice our presence, wolf-whistling and hollers start, causing Neal and I to blush hard.

"Aren't they cute?!" Robby shouts from his stall and high-fives Strobel next to him.

"Geez, you are making us sick. Keep it behind closed door, will ya?" Ramsey quips and covers his eyes. Neal unwraps his arm from my shoulders and sits down next to Ramsey: "Well, did we ruin your innocence? Is that too much for little primadonna?"

Mikey looks at him wordlessly before looking at me: "Keep him on the leash, will ya?"  
"Can't promise anything, Rammy," I chuckle and head to my stall. I could say we change in peace, but I would lie. I swear, those guys are the loudest bunch of young man I have ever met. And even the oldest, Rizzo, Buzzy, Auge and Gary Ross, are no better than the others.

While lacing up my skates, someone plops down next to me. I look up, expecting to see Neal or any of the other guys who don't mind me being here, but I end up looking at the team's oldest player, Les Auge.

"Is everything okay, Lessie?"

"Yeah, of course. Just…" he leans down and whispers to my ear "be careful Herb doesn't find out about you and Neal. And try not to get pregnant, okay?"

After saying the last sentence, he winks, causing blush to rise on my cheeks again. I punch his arm and mumble: "Shut up, we are not doing anything…"  
"Yet."

"What if you put your gear on?" I suggest, smiling a bit. Les gets up and winks again: "Wait till you two are together for long enough."  
"Go!"

Twenty minutes before the warm ups, Herb walks in and the room sinks in utter silence. Herb takes few steps among us and looks at every single one of us.

"Wells, put your gear off."

"But…"  
"Wells, put your gear off, Doc said you are not ready to play yet."

We look at Wellsie, who sighs and pulls down his gear. He suffered a minor injury during our last game, but we were all sure it was nothing bad and he will be eligible to play tonight. Herb looks at us again: "As for the rest of you, I expect nothing but complete focus tonight. Holland team was nothing compared to this. And Kimberly…"

My head shoots up as he calls my name and an uneasy feeling grows inside of my chest: "Yes, coach?"  
"You are playing defense tonight. With Jack."

"COACH!" Jack and I stand up in unison. Herb looks at us both: "I don't want to hear anything."

He continues messing up the lines, benching Strobel and completely changing positions. Still, he leaves our Cone-head line as it is. But the only thing I hear is "…playing defense. With Jack." And I swear, this will not end up okay. I am not saying Jack is a bad player, because he isn't, but playing defense with him… plus, I am a forward! 

It becomes clear all those victories gave us too much confidence and the game against the "B" team ends with a tie. And to say Herb is pissed would be an understatement.

I lean on Neal and look up at him: "Can't wait to get back to room."  
"Same here… what's going on?"

I look up and see coach Patrick on the ice, blocking the way off the ice. Neal gently grabs my hand and pulls me after him to get us closer.

"What for?" Bah asks, but Patrick's answer doesn't reach our ears. All I can assume is that his answer was not enough for the guys as Mac asks again, this time louder than Bah before: "What for?!"

"We'll find out in a minute, won't we? Let's go. C'mon, boys."

During the time we get back there, Herb is already standing on the faceoff circle. Neal waits until all of the guys skate past us and only then pulls me after him. I look up at him: "Why did you let them go first?"  
"Don't worry, we'll hear everything. But if we are behind their backs, I can hold your hand and Herb won't notice."

His boyish smile melts my heart and I smile at him: "I like your way of thinking."

"I know. I like it too," he winks, giving my hand one more squeeze. Giggling quietly, I roll eyes at his childness. However, my giggling and his attitude disappear as Herb speaks up.

"You guys don't want to work during the game? No problem, we'll work now. Goal line."

Oh shit. Oh shitshitshit, this doesn't mean anything good. I quickly look at Neal, who gulps hard and quickly glance at other guys, who mostly do the same thing. This means only one thing. Sprints.

"That one," Herb points where we have to stand and by this point, I see other guys are anything but happy about that. Few of the guys smack their sticks against the ice lightly, but Mac lets out his emotions by slapping his stick against the ice harder, causing pieces of ice fly up in the air. 

As we line up, I quickly glance around the arena. People are stopping and looking at us, but it seems Herb doesn't care about that at all. Then I look at Herb, only few seconds before coach Patrick blows the whistle, sending us. And then it starts- blue line, back, red line, back, far blue line, back. We are all on the line, except for Jimmy and Janny.

"HUSTLE!" Herb yells at them, causing them to skate faster. He waits until we are all on the line, all paying attention to him before he starts: "Think you can win on talent alone? Gentlemen, you don't have enough talent to win on talent alone. Again."

After we skate the drill again, he continues: "If you think you can come here and play the Norwegian National team and _tie_ them and then go to the Olympics and win—You got another thing coming!"

I quickly exchange a glance with Suter, who is next to me, and he quickly pats my knees with his stick when Herb is not watching. And that's pretty much all he can do before sound of the whistle cuts through the air again.

After few more drills, Herb doesn't show signs of letting us off the hook.

"You better think about something else, each and every one of you. When you pull on that jersey, you represent yourself and your teammates. _And the name on the front is a HELL OF A MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE ONE ON THE BACK! Get that through your head! AGAIN!"_

By this point, we look pretty worn out and I feel my tongue gluing to the mouth palate, dried from thirst. Quick glance reveals other guys are the same, sweat dripping from beneath their helmets. But Herb is still not showing any mercy and there is no time for feeling sorry for yourself as the whistle blows again.

"Win, lose or tie, you're gonna play like champions. Again."

"Kick it in the ass, Verchota. You want to go home early?" I hear faint yell, directed towards 6'02 tall and laid-back forward. And I am sure Phil would, if we weren't skating like crazy, say something back, sassing Herb. But now the only thing he probably does, is roll his eyes and mentally talk back to coach.

"Keep it going, Suter! All the way to the line and all the way back. It's not that difficult. Again."

"But doing it over and over again is," murmurs Suter before taking off.

We get some time off when Doc carefully goes over to Herb and his words make me believe we can go: "Herb. The rink manager wants to clean the ice and then go home."

"Tell him to leave me the keys. I'll lock up."  
Suter next to me quietly groans and Baker on the other side mumbles under his breath: "Please, not again."  
"Again."

"Fuck," Bakes curses silently. When coach doesn't blow the whistle right away, we glance over at coach Patrick, who looks at Herb with whistle touching his lips.

"Again!"

When we reach the goal line, few of the guys falls on their knees, few of them spits out, but all of us want this to end. I lean on Suter for some support, but it doesn't help when he is one of the guys to end up on their knees. I catch Rizzo's gaze and he looks like he can't do this any longer.

"You keep playing this way, you won't beat anybody who's good, let alone great. You wanna make this team, then you better start playing at a level that's gonna force me to keep you here. Again!"

The lights go off. That interrupts us all for a bit and I get a chance to look around. Silk is leaning on a goal post, Johnson is laying on the ice on his stomach, most of them is on their knees. I see Neal leaning on the boards, head resting against the glass.

"Thank god," sounds from different players, all of them summing up thought of the entire team. Phil looks at his usual partner in crime when it comes to pranks, UMD's Bah Harrington, who wordlessly shrugs his shoulders.

"You know what, I am done," I mumble to Suts and start skating away. Apparently, guys needed someone to do so as I see them follow me.

"Hey. Where you goin'? Back on the line."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I sigh and skate back on the line along with other guys.

"Again. Send 'em."

The whistle blows again, for the zillionth time tonight. And it's obvious how worn out are we. I skate a bit, but collapse on my knees, too exhausted to continue carrying my body weight and the weight of the gear any longer.

"Mayfield, get you ass moving or you wanna leave?"

With a growing lump in my throat, I stand up and follow the others.

"How 'bout it, Silky? You gonna be the first one to quit on me? What 'bout you, OC, you ready to go down? Oh, I think I got my money on you, Verchota, 'cause you've got a hot date in about an hour, but you are not looking too good for that right 'bout now, are ya?"

The torture continues for quite some more time, until the most unlikely person, always humble and hard-working Mark Johnson smashes his stick against the glass in annoyance: "That's not why we came here, Herb."  
"You came to play hockey. It seems like you can't even skate as a team."

"You won't force us to work as a team if you are going to push us like this."

Rizzo puts his hand on Johnson's shoulder: "Herb, you proved your point. But we won't be able to do anything tomorrow."  
Herb looks at them and then at every single one of us: "That's all."

With that being said, nearly all of us collide on the ice and again, the sound of throwing up fills the arena. Resting my hands on the ice, I feel something crawl up my throat and only a second before I throw up, someone gently holds my hair so it doesn't fall forward.

"Thanks, Neal," I mumble and look up.

"OC?"

"Really thought I was Neal? Wow, I am insulted. Nope, your boytoy is still emptying his stomach."

"He is not a boytoy and don't be such an asshole."  
"Hey, if someone helped me, I would be thankful and would not call him or her an asshole, but whatever suits you, Brown."

"I have a name, y'know?"  
"I know, but I currently don't remember it, so I will just call you Brown."  
"It's on the back of my jersey."  
"Really, didn't see it there."  
I sigh and grab onto his arm to stand up.

"For a girl you have a pretty strong grip."  
"Shut up or you will feel this strong grip around your neck."

He chuckles lightly and jabs me with his stick: "Save the sweet words for someone else, Brown."

After changing into our everyday clothes, Neal waits for me outside. He pulls me into a hug and presses his lips against my cheek: "That was insane."  
I look at him and nod. He still looks pale and completely worn out: "I would invite you to grab something to eat, but I think we both see nothing else than our beds, am I right?"  
"I am sorry, but my legs really can't hold me up any longer."

Hand in hand we head to our hotel and stop at my room. Neal puts his arms on my waist and pulls me to him, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"  
"Yeah. Sleep tight."

He smiles gently and pecks tip of my nose: "You too. And don't let the bugs bite."

I watch him nearly drag his feet towards his room: "Hey, Mousey!"  
He turns around, smiling a bit, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes: "What, Chicka?"

"Wanna stay here tonight?" words burst out of my mouth before I can think of the consequences.

"I would love to, but what would the guys think?"

"C'mon. You can barely walk."  
He takes a deep breath and walks towards me: "No one can know about that, okay?"

"Okay."

After we both take shower and after I change into my PJs, I give him back his hoodie he lent me all those months ago. As soon as I crawl under blankets, my eyelids start getting heavier and I fall asleep in his arms, safe and sound and warmed up. 


	19. Chapter 18: Back in the USA

CHAPTER 18: BACK IN THE USA

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

I still don't know how I got back to my room after Herb absolutely destroyed us after that game against Norway. All I know is my legs are still sore the next morning when Silky shakes me awake: "C'mon, OC, we have practice."  
"I don't know if can move."  
"Same here, buddy, but do you wanna go back home?"  
I shake my head: "No. But did you ever imagine we would work hard like that?"

My long time teammate sits down next to me: "Honestly, no. I never thought we'd ever be working hard like that. But I somehow see now why Minnesota had great results when Herb was coaching."  
"Ever thought you'd be on the same team as so many former Gophers?"  
"Maybe in the NHL, but not so soon after the college."

Most of us have already been selected on the NHL draft by various teams, but as long as we play for this team, Herb doesn't want us to sign pro contracts. What worries us the most is how what would happen if we get injured? If our chances of ever playing hockey end?

"It's the easiest for Kimberly, she doesn't have to worry about making the NHL," I mumble quietly however, still enough for Silk to hear me.

"But that doesn't mean it's okay if she gets hurt."

"There's less to lose for her."

"Jack, honestly, what annoys you so much?"  
"I made it clear, didn't I? I don't think the girl has anything to do here."

"You made that very clear. But why did you have to give her hard time? She is a great player, you saw that, and she proved herself worthy of being here."  
"I guess you are right," I sigh and get up. After quickly changing from the PJs, Silk and I head to the hotel diner, where most of the team is already picking the food from the buffet.

"OC, Silk! Over here," Coxy calls us. I lift my finger, signaling him we will be there in a minute, after we grab something to eat.

"I am absolutely starving," Silky groans as we approach the buffet table, heavy smell of freshly prepared food filling our nostrils and reminding us how hungry we actually are.

"You and I both. I don't know what's worse, sore legs or empty stomach…"  
"Empty stomach. But at least empty stomach is easier to cure than sore legs." 

"Hey, Jack, wait up!" soft voice calls me when I am on my way back to the hotel room. I turn around and see Kimberly trying to catch me.

"What's up, Brown?" I ask her, my arms crossed on my chest when she falls into a step with me. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear: "Nothing. Just wanted to say thank you for not ignoring me on the ice yesterday…"  
"I had no choice, you were open."  
"So was Rammer."  
"Maybe I wanted to see you mess up," I smirk mischievously and she chuckles quietly: "Maybe you are a nice guy somewhere deep beneath your cockiness."  
"Maybe I am. But you will never know."

Her chuckle gets a bit louder and I can't help but to smile a bit as well. Before she can notice that, I put on a straight face and look at her: "Is that all you wanted?"

"Well…yes, I think."  
"You could've said that in the locker room. Or would Neal be jealous?"

She punches my arm gently and mumbles, her cheeks completely red: "I don't know what are you talking about."  
"Don't think I am stupid, Brown. It's pretty clear to all of us you two are dating."

Her cheeks tint dark red and she looks down, not saying a word. Few moments pass in the silence when she finally looks up at me again: "Who knows?"  
"Everyone but Herb. Y'know, he would throw you or him off the roster if he knew…"  
"Don't tell him. Please, Jack. I don't want to go home and I don't want to ruin Neal's chances."  
"I don't know, maybe I should tell him…"  
She shakes her head and tightens her grip on my arm a bit: "Please, don't."

I gently push her hand away and smirk before walking away: "See you on the ice, Brown." 

On the practice, Herb messes up the lines again. Again, Kim turns from forward to a defenseman, but Herb pairs her up with Morrow. I find myself hoping she wouldn't do well and he would try with other pairings.

"Stop, stop, STOP! Kimberly, get off the ice, this is horrible! Baker, get on here!"

She sits down next to me and kicks the boards with her skate in anger: "What the fuck was that?"

Ramsey next to her pats her pants with his stick: "Don't worry, okay?"  
"Did you see what I did out there?"

"You can't always do great…"

She only shakes her head, sinking into a silence. She remains silent even on the team meeting after the practice.

"Don't worry, Kim," I lean down to her and try to comfort her.

"Leave me alone," she mumbles quietly and looks down at her fiddled fingers.

"Kim, you will be playing defense again tonight. That's all for today," Herb says, making Kim look up at him. She opens her mouth, trying to say something, but I dig my elbow in her ribs to prevent her from saying anything. She doubles over in pain and lets out quiet squeal, but remains silent. Only later, when we get out and Herb is far enough, she pulls me back and hisses: "Why did you do that?"  
"To keep you quiet."  
"You could just shush me or something… why did you want me to keep quiet?"

I pull her to the side and wait until all of the guys disappear. But that takes a bit longer. Ramsey stops and looks at us: "Everything okay with you two?"  
"Everything's fine. Really, Rammer, don't worry," she smiles and looks up at me "Unless if something bothers OC. "

"Everything's fine, Mike, really."

He gives us one last suspicious look before shrugging his shoulders and leaving us alone. When no one else is around, I grab her arms, digging my fingertips into her skin.

"Ow, Jack, that hurts."  
"Suck it up and listen to me. I wanted to keep you quiet because let's be honest, the slightest mistake could be a reason for Herb to send you home. And if you said something back, if you tried to argue with him, you think you'd be here in few days? Uh, do you?"  
She shakes her head slowly: "No. I would be back home. But why do you want me to stay?"  
"That's a good question and I don't have the answer."  
She smirks a bit: "I was right, you are not such an asshole person as you pretend to be."  
"Keep telling yourself that."

I let her go, but she doesn't move away: "Thanks, Jack."

"Yeah, no problem." 

Hours later, we face the same team we tied against yesterday. If I said we are not nervous, I would lie. The anticipation lies above us and it doesn't seem to be getting away, only thicker. I glance at Kim, who is talking with Neal and when I notice them holding hands, I realize they must be for real. And it also hits me that the conversation I had earlier with her was probably our first normal conversation since July when Herb called selected names. Everyone's quiet, excluding quiet murmured conversations, until Rizzo stands up and clears his throat. We look at him.

"So, yesterday our asses were embarrassed. We played tie against the B team and then Herb showed us hell. I don't know about you, but I realized something important. We will win against teams like that only if we play like a team. And I cannot imagine better teammates than you."

"Do you need a tissue?" Morrow chuckles from his stall, causing us to chuckle under our breaths. Rizzo ignores him and continues: "I mean it. It may took sometime to realize that, but… I think we can do this. No matter how Herb mixes up the lines…"  
whatever he was trying to say, gets interrupted when Herb walks in with Doc and coach Craig. Rizzo sits down and the entire room sinks into the silence again. He looks around the room, meets the gaze of every single one of us before saying quietly however, loud enough to capture our attention: "I hope yesterday you learnt something and that you will show that on the ice. You know the lines and the pairs. Now get out there and show me why I should keep you here."

Few days later we are on the plane to Minnesota and it still feels like a dream. Who would've thought a torture like Herb gave us after that tie would affect our performance against the same team so much. The most surprising thing is the realization despite hidden relationship between Neal and Kim, her and I somehow find each other on the ice. Even though she got on the team as a forward, she is a great two-way player, no matter how much that I hate to admit that. Not to mention, she scored the game-winning goal, sealing the result at 9:0 in our favor.

Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean, when most of the guys is asleep, she quietly comes to me and slips on the seat next to me. With a raised brow I look at her: "Everything okay?"  
"Yeah. Just thought I would chat a bit with my on-ice better half," she smiles and fastens the seat belt.

"What about your off-ice better half?"  
"Neal is asleep. He is tired, but I couldn't sleep…"  
"Do I make a good boyfriend replacement?" I question, raising my brow a bit more. She looks down at her fiddled fingers and a strand of her hair falls on her face. Before I can stop myself, I stretch my arm and tuck it back behind her ear.

"You could use a bit more practice, but you are getting there," she whispers quietly.

"So…Neal and you are for real, uh?"

Even in the dark, I see her face light up: "Yeah. He is super sweet and really caring and really nothing like any other guy I know. And he is so adorably shy and quiet."

"Oh, gosh, that sounds like a really soppy guy. Have you even gotten to the first base yet?"  
She punches my arm: "Not everything is about that. He is not being pushy and…"  
"Are you sure he is not…" I wiggle my eyebrows, but she understands what I was trying to say.

"How can you say that?! He is being a gentleman with good manners."  
"Whatever you say, I still think it's not normal if the guy doesn't feel any sexual desire towards his girlfriend."  
"That's none of your business, Jack. Imagine me asking you about your dating life…"

I put my hand around her shoulders, pulling her to my side. She lets out a quiet squeak: "What are you doing?"  
My breath fans her ear as I whisper to her: "If you want to know anything, I can share that with you. I like to help people in need with personal advice."  
She gently unwraps my arm from around her shoulders: "I don't need any help about that, thank you. But I know where to find you."

After saying that, she stands up and takes a step away. I pull her back by her hand: "Hey, I was joking. Not about the help part, but y'know."  
"I know. But I am still going back to my seat. See ya in Minnesota, okay?"

"Deal," I let go off her hand and give her a small smile.

Early in the next morning, we land at International Airport and to say we all look horrible would be an understatement. Even the pretty faces of the team look like they have been ran over by a truck. I catch up the step with McClanahan and grin: "Not looking too good, Robbie?"

"Shut up, Jack, I can barely keep my eyes open," he groans in response and ruffles his hair.

"Oh, come on, I wanted to talk to you about geopolitics or any other fancy terms you use."  
He looks at me: "You actually remembered that."  
"Of course I did. You used fancy terms and never explained what they really mean."  
"How do you have energy to joke?"

"Boston thing, you wouldn't understand."  
"No, I wouldn't. Now, if you excuse me. I am really too exhausted to explain fancy terms," he smiles tiredly and leans head on his stick. Many other guys repeat his gesture when we wait for our baggage, including me.

"When's our next game?" I hear Buzzy ask near me.

"Guess we will find out soon enough," Ross answers and huffs he picks up his bag.

"I think our next game is against North Stars… maybe a week from now," Coxy tells Buzzy just before they leave with their bags. Soon after I pick up my bag and look around who is still here. since we have a team meeting in the evening three days from now, most of the guys have decided to spend some time with their loved ones. Near the exit, I see Neal and Kim, his arm resting on her hips as he is holding their stick with the other hand. His bag is already resting by his feet, but it doesn't surprise me when he doesn't let her pick up her baggage. Okay, I have seen enough, but one thing I know for sure. If they aren't meant to be…then no one is.


	20. Chapter 19: Family Time

CHAPTER 19: FAMILY TIME

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

Even on our flight back home, most of the guys were looking forward to see their families for a bit before we face Minnesota North Stars and then travel across the States to play games on the road. Even Rizzo decided to spend his day off with his girlfriend, Donna, meaning he would travel to Boston for a day. He is the only player from Boston to do so, all of the other Bostonians invited their parents to Minnesota for those three days. However, some of us are on our own. I look up at Neal and smile, trying to take my bag. He moves it out of my reach: "Why are you in such hurry?"

"You really don't have to carry my bag around… I wanted to catch the first bus to the U and rest up a bit?"  
"Are you one of those who didn't call parents to come here?" he puts our bags down and wraps arms around my waist. I rest my hands on his hips and look up at him, at his enthusiastically glimmering eyes, little bruise beneath his right eye where he got hit on one of the games. Slowly, I nod and try to look down, but he moves his hand from my waist to my chin, making me look at him. With a small smirk on his lips, he leans down and gently kisses me.

"Get some, Brots!" Verchota cheers before exiting the airport with his family. Neal's cheeks turn dark pink before he lets me go and takes my hand in his: "Listen, since you don't have anyone here…would you like to come with me? Uh, we have a guest room or I can sleep on the couch so it won't be awkward and…" I giggle at his adorable babbling. His cheeks turn even redder, if that's possible and he ruffles his hair: "What's so funny?"  
"Nothing. You are just so adorable babbling like crazy," I giggle a bit more and step on my tiptoes, kissing tip of his nose. His chest vibrates with muffled chuckles as he pulls me closer to him, our chests tightly squeezed together. And we stay like that for a bit before he looks at me: "I meant it, would you like to come with me?"

"Of course I would like. Thank you so much, Mousey."

If I ever wondered why him and Rammer were the kids of the team, I got the reason soon enough. He lifts me up and spins me around, smiling wide all along. When he finally puts me back down, my legs feel a bit wobbly and the world around me is spinning slightly.

"Are you okay? You look a bit pale." Neal wraps his arm around my waist, helping me stand up straight.

"I am fine, just never been a huge fan of carrousels or spinning around."

"Well, somehow you spun someone's world around," he quickly pecks my cheek and leads me to the parking lot where part of his family is already waiting. Neal leans to my ear and whispers: "My younger brothers, Aaron and Paul. And my dad."

"Neal, I thought you were going to play hockey," the shorter of the pair of brothers asks with a grin, which looks exactly like Neal's significant smirk. Then he stretches his hand: "Aaron. The middle brother."  
"And greatest pain in the ass," Neal whispers to you, causing you to chuckle quietly under your breath. Aaron looks at Neal and hisses: "Just because you are older, it doesn't mean you are not a pain in the ass yourself."  
Neal only hands him our bags without any other words and turns to taller teenager: "Nice to see you came along, Paulie."  
"Don't call me Paulie," his brother says and steps to me: "Paul. The youngest and smartest one."  
"Believe it or not, this self-proclaimed genius is fourteen years old."

"Are you joking? Is he serious?" I look at Paul, who chuckles and nods: "Yes, he is serious. Believe it or not, this knucklehead is the oldest."  
"Yeah, he mentioned you are the younger brothers."  
"And this is my dad. Dad, meet Kim Mayfield, my uh…teammate."  
I stretch out my arm and shake his father's hand. He looks at his oldest son: "A teammate? Since when do you bring teammates with you?"

Neal's cheeks turn red and he looks down: "I, uh…"  
"Neal invited me to join him. Since I am from Providence and my parents are not here… I hope you don't mind, sir?"

"Are you really his teammate?"  
"Dad, she has USA Hockey Team bag. So, how come you got on the team?"  
"You should've seen her play. She was a forward at university, but played defense on the last few games," Neal subconsciously wraps arm around me and pulls me to his side. When he catches his dad's squinted eyes and his brothers' smirks, he lets me go, blushing harder than ever before.

"Can we go, please, we are tired."

The ride to Neal's home is rather uncomfortable. He tries to fill the silence with telling stories from the locker room, complaining about coach how he has never seen him like that when playing for him at the U and other small talk. But it doesn't seem to work. Paul seizes the opportunity of his brother trying to keep the conversation going and asks innocently: "How long have you two been together?"  
Not even comprehending what his brother has asked him, Neal answers: "Not long."

"So you two are dating?" Aaron smirks next to me and glances between Neal, sitting on passenger's seat, and I, squeezed in the middle of two brothers.

"Neal meant we met during the tryouts and uh, haven't known each other long…" I hesitantly reply and quickly glance up at Neal, trying to catch his eyes. Unsuccessfully. For the rest of the ride he is quiet and seems really interested in his sneakers. Even though his brothers say nothing and his dad talks about living in Roseau, I feel kinda uncomfortable about this whole situation.

When we arrive to Neal's house, he gets out of the car at lightning speed and gets our gears out of the trunk. Because I sit in the middle of two brothers, I have to wait until one of them gets out. Aaron puts his hand on the back of passenger's seat and blocks my way out.

"Can you please let me out?"  
"Nope. Until you tell us what are your intentions with Neal. We may not get along all the time, but he deserves the best."  
"We have to know if you are for real," Paul cuts his brother short. You look at both of them and say quietly: "I really like Neal and I don't want to hurt him."  
"Everyone likes Neal. Even coach Brooks likes him. That was not the question."  
"It's not my intention to hurt Neal in any way. But it's a bit early to say I _love_ him."  
I see in their eyes I didn't really convince them. But we have been in the car for a bit longer than expected, so they don't dig further. We wordlessly get out of the car and they walk me to their house. Paul opens the door and gives me a small smile: "Welcome in Roseau."  
"Thanks, Paul."  
I walk in and look around the doorway area. Neal mentioned his family is not the richest, but they can live comfortably. The walls are covered with photos of three brothers in different stages of growing up, wearing hockey gear or just over-sized jerseys of their idols. I get completely lost in those pictures and jolt up in surprise when someone clears his throat behind my back. Next thing I know is a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and a chin resting on my shoulder.

"Neal…"  
"How did ya know it was me?"

"Because, smart pants, you are the only one to know me."

"Good point. Eventhough Aaron was at tryouts too…."  
"Wait, your brother was there?"  
His chin digs a bit deeper into crook of my neck as he nods: "He was. And he was devastated when his name wasn't called."  
His grip on my waist tightens a bit as he lifts me up, making me squeak a bit: "Neal, we are not alone."  
As soon as he puts me back down, he spins me around, our eyes meeting before he smiles widely: "Come on, you haven't met my mom yet."

His mom is the only person in his family, who accepts me with no apparent problems. Moments after meeting her, she brings photo album and proudly shows me photos of mini Neal. My baby-faced date skiing for the first time, after winning a pee-wee game. His first college game and few photos after it when his hair was plastered to his forehead. Various baby photos with him smiling toothlessly or just looking at the camera with those wide eyes he still has.

"Mom, I am sure Kim doesn't care…" Neal is as red as a tomato once again and his brothers are chuckling at how embarrassed he is.

"No, it's okay, I really want to see what were you like?"  
"So you will know what your kids could look like?" Aaron grins, earning a high-five from his younger brother.

"Watch yourself," Neal threatens, but due to his squeaky voice, neither of his brothers takes him seriously. Even more, Paul, the youngest, ruffles his hair: "What are you going to do?"

The only person not saying a word is his dad.

"Honey, what's wrong? You seem absent."  
"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Neal, I hope you will escort your guest to the guest room."  
"Yes, I will. Dad, we are only teammates…"  
"I am pretty sure you are, but I mean it."  
To sum up, dining with his family wasn't the exactly the most relaxed way to meet someone's parents. Neal showed me where I will be staying for those three days and then left me to have some time for myself.

A day after I sit on the bed, aimlessly staring at the wall and thinking about the upcoming road trip when someone knocks on the door.

"Come on in!"

I expect to see Neal, but to my surprise it's his dad who walks in. I straighten up on the bed: "Yes, Mr. Broten?"

"I just came to talk about Neal and you."

After few seconds of silence I breathe out: "What would you like to know?"

"Did you really meet at the tryouts?"  
"Yes, we did. He helped me around and introduced me to other players he knew from before."  
"And did not get close to him to use him or anything?"  
"No, sir. If you wonder why I came here with him… I am from Rhode Island and both of my parents work triple shifts. And if I asked them to come to Minnesota or travel back home…that would cost too much money."

"But they are going to be in Lake Placid?"  
"If I make it that far, yes. They are already saving."

"I can't wait to meet them in this case. But I really hope you are serious about Neal."  
"I am, sir, as much as I can be after knowing him for few months. But we enjoy each other's company."  
"I want you to know I was not happy when I saw him bring another person to our home, let alone his guest being a girl."  
"I understand your concerns, sir, but I promise I mean no harm to Neal."  
Without another word, he leaves the room. As soon as the door close, I lay back on the bed. Is that what he thinks? That I am going to use Neal or break his heart? He was the only one to help me back in July… and we get along perfectly, including occasionally playful teasing and tripping each other on the ice when Herb is not watching.

Another knock echoes through the room: "Come on in."  
The door open and close without the visitor saying anything at all. I sit up again and this time, the guest is Neal. I am so used to seeing him in jeans and plaid shirt, it surprises me too see him in a ripped and slightly too short tracksuit with old white T-shirt.

"Neal…."  
"Let me guess, my dad came to give you a hard time or some kind of police interrogation?"  
"He's worried…"  
"And doesn't know where the line is from time to time. But he is a police officer and…"  
I stand up and quickly press my lips against him to keep him shut. I feel his lips curve into a smile as he kisses me back, letting me taste beer in his mouth. With the back of my hand I wipe my mouth and grin: "Someone had a beer or two, hm?"

"Oh, come on, I haven't had one since we went to Europe."  
"You didn't? I remember few nights when seeing a beer bottle…"  
"Shush, that doesn't count. Beside…I remember few nights when you had cigarettes keeping you busy…"  
"Okay, okay, you won that. Why didn't you bring me one as well?"

He pulls a bottle from behind his back: "Who said I didn't bring you anything?"

I stretch out my arm to get a grip of the bottle, but he moves it out of my reach, smirking mischievously: "You will have to work a bit harder to get it."  
"Neeeeeeal. Please, please, please."

He approaches me and gives me a soft kiss on the lips before kissing my forehead and tip of my nose: "How could I say no to those begging puppy eyes."  
"Shut up and give me that goddamn bottle, Mousey."  
Finally, when both of us have our beer bottles (first one for me and probably second or third one for Neal), we sit back on the bed and Neal wraps his arm around my shoulders: "Ya know, I shouldn't have been here…"  
"So what are you doing here then?"  
"Hanging out with you. Hey, do you mind if I ask you something personal?"  
"Define 'personal'. Before you ask, no, I am not telling you my bra size."  
"Damn it," he chuckles quietly, but soon gets serious again.

"I heard what you told my dad about your parents…but I remember back in Norway when you said you don't want to see them until the tournament. Can I ask, what's the deal?"

I sigh and unintentionally ruffle my hair: "I guess I should tell you by now. And I mean tell you the truth, not what I told your dad."  
"I won't judge you…"  
"Thanks, Neal."


	21. Chapter 20: Kimberly's Story

CHAPTER 20: KIMBERLY'S STORY

 _ **~NEAL'S POV~**_

"So how did you end up playing hockey?" I ask after few moments of silence. She looks at me and smiles a bit: "You expect a story how hockey saved my life? Sorry to disappoint you, but it was other way around. Hockey basically destroyed my life, yet I still play it."  
"I've heard of stories when hockey saved someone, but not the other way around. What happened?"

Her eyes seem to water slightly: "We never had financial problems, but we couldn't buy things left and right.. I never told you, but I was second of three kids. My older brother Richard was seven years older than me…"  
"Sorry, was?"  
"Yeah. Allow me to finish? I will tell you in a bit."  
She sounds slightly annoyed, so I keep quiet and let her finish. She looks at the wall and continues: "Well… he was the one to play hockey in our family, but joined military as soon as he was old enough. He would be 27 now, actually would turn 28 on the same day we play against Minnesota. He…remember in 1976 when two American solders were killed by North Koreans?"  
I quietly nod, but starting to get a feeling of what may had happened to her brother. She quickly wipes a tear and continues in slightly broken voice: "He was one of the soldiers sent there three days later. What no one ever told is that few of them were killed during the operation. And my brother was one of them. They showed us pictures…"

I put my hand around her waist and pull her closer. She leans her head on my shoulder and lets tears spill out. Not knowing what to say or do, I rock back and forth, holding her close and give her needed time.

"You don't have to continue if you don't want to."

I feel her shake her head: "No, I-I…you should know."

She takes a deep breath: "I remember playing pond hockey with him every winter. Richard was my first coach and he taught me more than anyone. He taught me how to skate, how to pass, how to stop… if it wasn't for him, I probably wouldn't be playing hockey. Don't get me wrong, I love the game, but I never wanted to play. But when my brother passed…"  
"You wanted to honor his memory by playing the game he grew up playing?"

"Yes. I practiced hard to get a scholarship. I spent more than twelve hours four days a week on the ice and three days a week working out. Sit-ups, push-ups, jumping jacks, everything you can think of.  
"Where did you apply to?"  
"Brown. But I wanted to get a scholarship. No such luck. We were not really poor, but we didn't have too much either. As long as my brother was alive, yes, we had no problems, but with his passing…"

"So you had to pay to attend?"  
"Yes. And ironically, the person who got the scholarship I was supposed to get is my best friend."  
"But what does hockey have to do with all this?"  
"My parents paid for every tournament, every game I wanted to attend. And that includes new gear, jerseys, sticks. My parents were never alcoholics, they both worked as police officers. But when hockey started to take its tool, mom started to drink and soon lost her job. I know I probably told you a whole mess, but…"

"No, it's okay, don't worry," I pull her closer to me and rub her hair. She takes a deep breath and looks up at me, smiling a bit. However, there are still traces of tears on her cheeks and that takes me back to the first time I have seen her cry. Months ago when she thought she didn't make the team.

"Thank you for listening to my whining."  
I kiss her cheek lightly, tasting salty tears on her cheeks and soon I feel how her muscles tighten as she smiles.

"Don't worry. I am honored you trust me."

Her smile grows a bit wider when she turns to me completely, her hands resting on my hips. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer. Her grey eyes meet mine and in a next second she leans in. Grip on my hips tightens as she smiles into a kiss and pulls me a bit closer to her.

Before I know what are we doing, I tackle her on her bed carefully and deepen the kiss. Soft quiet whine escapes her lips and I pull away. Her eyes are closed and I see she has slightly swollen lips. I pull my hands away from her and nervously ruffle my hair: "Did I hurt you? I am sorry, I didn't mean it…"  
She laughs light-heartedly, tangling her fingers into my hair and pulling me closer to her. When our faces are close enough for her breath to tickle my skin, she whispers to my ear and I hear a slight chuckle in her voice: "You are the most innocent one, aren't ya?"

With blush creeping up my cheeks, I shake my head. She chuckles again before pressing her lips against mine, her hands slipping to the hem of my T-shirt. It seems like I have no control over my actions as I dig my fingertips into soft skin on her hips. She yelps quietly and after that, a quiet moan rolls off her tongue. Her usually gentle hands forcefully yank up my T-shirt and her fingers slip beneath the fabric of it, touching my skin gently and making me shiver at the sensation. Her kisses grow deeper and more passionate, quiet groans now escaping both of us. I feel her teeth gently dig into my lower lip. In that split moment I realize things have nearly gotten out of control. I put hands on her shoulder and gently break the kiss. After doing so, she looks at me with widely-opened eyes. Her hands, which were on my chest only seconds ago, slip from beneath the shirt and to her as she fixes her shirt.

"Kim…"  
She shakes her head and mumbles quietly: "What's wrong? Why are you afraid of getting intimate?"  
"I am not, it doesn't feel right. We have not know each other for long enough and we have not been together for more than three months."  
"So what? C'mon, Neal, why are you making a scene out of it?"

I take a deep breath and look at her. I know I hurt her by rejecting her, but…: "I don't want to hurt you. We are teammates, I care for you more than I have ever cared for anyone."  
Her voice breaks: "Do you even find me attractive?"  
"What?"  
"You heard me. Do you find me attractive? Do I attract you?"

Now she in the verge of tears again and she wipes her cheeks with back of her hand. I take a careful step closer to her and gently hug her when close enough. Her head rests on my shoulder as I quietly whisper in her ear: "Of course you attract me. But I don't want to hurt you. I lo… I love you, Kim."

She breaks the embrace I have been holding her in and takes a step back, her eyes wide open and her skin pale from shock.  
"W-What did you say?" her voice sounds broken, but she still musters enough concentration to ask again. I look down and repeat quietly, my cheeks turning red again.

"I said I love you."

After hearing that, her face lights up, bringing the brightest smile I have ever seen on her face: "I think feelings are mutual, Neal."  
"I would still like to hear that from you."  
"You are such an ass," she grins and wipes the remaining traces of tears from her face before looking right into my eyes. I watch her carefully, observe every slightest move she does when she smiles: "I love you too, Neal."  
"See, it wasn't that hard, now was it?"  
Shaking her head no, she chuckles quietly and wraps my arms around her waist. She rests her head on my chest while I play with the ends of her hair. Seconds or maybe minutes pass before we pull apart.  
"Are you feeling better?"  
"I do. Thank you so much for listening."

"Anytime," I rub her back before pecking her cheek goodnight. Just as I am about to walk out of her room, she quietly calls my name. I turn around and my heart melts when I see her standing next to her bed, looking vulnerable like never before.

"Are you sure you are okay?"  
"I don't think so. Neal…I have never spoken about my brother with anyone."

She looks broken and it's obvious she misses her brother. And talking about him may helped her a bit, but after all those years it seems the wound is still not healed.

"Will you be okay?"  
She shakes her head gently and looks down before looking back up at me: "Can you please stay here?"

I sigh and ruffle my hair. Word 'No' is on the edge of my tongue, especially after that moment we shared. What could have happened if I stay the whole night in her room? But once again, I fall for her puppy eyes.

"Okay, I will stay here with you."  
With a small smile on her cheeks, she slips into a bed and looks at me.

"Scoot over a bit," I playfully shoo her away. With a tiny pout, she moves closer to the wall, making more space for me. I slip under the duvet next to her and face her. I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer, squishing her against my chest. She lets out a quiet sigh as she nuzzles her nose in the crook of my neck. After few seconds of silence, her breathing slows down and when I glance down at her, she is fast asleep. Strands of her dark hair fall on her pillow or are covering skin on her neck. Sleeping like that she seems like she has no worries in the world. No worries of getting cut from the team, no worries about her family and her brother…nothing. I smile at myself and push a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down and kissing her cheek.


	22. Chapter 21: Who Do You Play For?

CHAPTER 21: WHO DO YOU PLAY FOR?

 _ **~MAC'S POV~**_

I never though coming back to the university would be so intense. It's our first home game since the game against Canadian National Team on October 14th. Now, nine days later we step off the bus in front of St. Paul Civic Center. Just before we enter the arena, Silk stops me by lightly pulling my shoulder: "Don't forget who do you play for."  
Before I can come up with a good answer, he is gone. With a quiet sigh, I fix the straps of the bag on my shoulder. By the looks other guys were giving former Gophers I am sure they were thinking the same thing. _Now we will see who do they play for._ Quickly glancing around, I realize all of the other guys must've already gone in…  
"McClanahan!"

"I am coming, coach!"

In the locker room Neal is sitting next to me. Having shared the locker room with him for one year (along with Riff, Bakes, Grumpy, Rammer, Janny and Strobs), I know exactly he is going to be annoying little ass again. And I am right. First thing I see is how he scattered his gear also in my stall. And he is clearly pretending he didn't see me come in as I see him looking down and smirking mischievously. With a raised brow and arms crossed on my chest I stop in front of him. He keeps his focus on his skate laces, making sure both skates are laced up perfectly and tightly until I clear my throat. He peeks up at me through his hair and smiles innocently: "Yes, Robbie?"  
"Why is your gear in my stall, Mouse?"

He looks to where the rest of his gear is and looks back at me: "I don't know."  
"Didn't you put it there?"

He shakes his head: "I have no idea how it got there. It was in my bag only a second ago…"  
I quickly scoop up his gear and put it in his lap: "Now it is where it should be."

He only grins and neatly puts his gear on the shelf above his before turning to me: "Oh, and Mac? You might want to check your pants."

"Broten, what did you do?" I get scared what did he come up with. His grin grows wider and he ruffles his hair, not saying a thing.

"Hey, McClanahan!" Harrington shouts from across the room. I turn around, just to see the other half of the locker room doubled over from laughing hard.

"What is it? You are so immature…"  
"Nothing, nothing," Verchota seems like he is having hard time not bursting into unstoppable laughter. To be honest, their laughter scares me and I carefully put hands on my backside only to feel nothing. Except that they pranked me again.

"Very funny, guys. Honestl- MOUSE!" I jolt up. After checking what's so funny about my pants and what's wrong, I sit down in my stall. Only to actually sit into something wet, no doubt it was Neal's idea. He bends over, his shoulders shaking with laughter, and puts now the half-empty bottle of something back into his bag.

"This better be water…"

Still laughing, he shakes his head and manages to utter: "G-Gatora-"  
"You spilled Gatorade on my bench!?"

I should've seen this one coming. This is not the first time he has pulled "The Gatorade Prank" and I am sure he was not alone in it. Of course, Verchota and Rammer are both on the other side of the room, both of them now red from suppressed laughter. Should've known. Rammer and Mouse were known back at the U for pranks like that.

"Hey, Persnickety, didn't you know we have a toilet nearby?" Jack shouts from his stall and finishes getting ready. With a loud huff, I snatch Neal's towel from shelf above his head and wipe the liquid before throwing it back into his lap: "Thank you."

"Hey, I was planning to use that."  
"I was planning to wear these pants later."

Just as I am about to put on a jock, Kenny quips: "Calvin Klein's, Mac? Fancy, I must say."  
"Whoa, Kenny, does your wife know you like checking out underwear of your teammates?"

"Only if they wear expensive brand. Hey, Mac, considering you need ages to get ready…what if you put your gear on?"

Minutes before the game, when my sticks are already taped and everything is on its spot, I turn to Jack: "So, do you know what geopolitics are?"  
"Enlighten me, Robbie," he rolls eyes and rests chin on his gloved knuckles.

"If you listened in school, you'd probably know that."  
"I studied finances, smart ass."

"That's general knowledge."  
"McClanahan, I am going to think you were just pretending you know the meaning…"  
"Okay, okay, don't be anxious. So, geopolitics studies effects of geography on international relations and politics."

"See, it wasn't hard, was it?"

"Actually, OC, I said _geopolitical absorption,_ not _geopolitics_."  
"Same thing. But all I care about now is hockey. And beating Minnesota."  
"Yeah…" I say quietly and nervously ruffle my hair. This game is going to be intense and not even close to fun. Playing against someone you have known for years, who you shared locker room with, who you travelled to games with.

I stretch my arm to take my sticks and check them again, but grab only air.

"Where are my sticks?"  
"What sticks, Robby?" Koho asks and pokes me with the end of his stick. I smack it away and repeat: "Has anyone seen my sticks?"

"Koho?"

Davey Christian turns to Rizzo: "Yeah?"  
"I meant Koho as a stick, not you, Koho. It was meant for Rob, if he is looking for his Koho stick?"  
"For all of my sticks…"

I don't even realize Bah is not here until he calls me from around the corner. I turn around to see him holding up my sticks, the tape slightly scratched off at some spots.

"BAH!"

I snatch sticks out of his grip and tear the tape off. With no additional words, I take a reel of tape out of my bag and start taping the sticks again, to my teammates' entertainment. However, it seems their pranks eased the tension, which was lingering in the locker room. Just as I finish taping sticks and am just about to make sure there is no crease in the tape, Herb walks in. As soon as the door open, the room sinks in silence.

"You will be playing against players, who majority of you shared locker room with. And if I see anyone of you playing for them…"  
He doesn't need to finish his thoughts, because it's crystal clear what he wanted to say. If any of us, former Gophers, plays for them, we will be going home before the game even ends. Quietly, I look over at Riff, Bakes, Strobs, Janny, Grumpy, Rammer and finally, Mouse. No one needs to say anything, we are all on the same page about this game. It's not going to be an easy game and it won't be nice. We will be facing guys with who we shared locker room with, experienced travels, vistories, defeats… everything. Some of us have been playing longer, while Rammer and Mouse have been on the team for one season only. No doubt Grumpy has been Gopher for the longest time, last season was his fourth in Gophers' uniform. Bakes, Strobs and I have been playing for them for three years before being selected at the tryouts, while Riff and Janny have been defending Gophers' colors for two years.

We knew this day would come, but it became real with Herb's entrance in the locker room. And if pranks eased the tension before… after his talk, all the tension is back. Mostly on the side of us, who played for the U. Grumpy's typical grin is gone, Riff looks even angrier than usually, Bakes is nervously biting his nails, something I haven't seen him do in a long time and the youngest Gophers look few years older.

Herb uses the complete silence and continues: "On their roster there will be few guys from the tryouts, including Timmy Harrer and Aaron Broten."

At the mention of his brother, Neal looks up. Not only him, Kim looks up as well and glances over at Neal, who is now as pale as a ghost. Herb looks at us once again before wordlessly leaving the room and giving us a couple more minutes. Only then Neal speaks up, his voice even squeakier: "Did- Did he say Aaron?"  
"Yep. C'mon, Brots, it's not the last time playing against him."  
"Bakes, we are talking about my brother here… I cannot play against my own baby brother."

"Well, you have to."

When it's all said and done, we head on the ice. And by the time, given for the warm-ups, comes down to zero, I feel like throwing up. I have never been so nervous in my entire life, not even when I played my first game with the U. Not even when I asked Debbie out. Or proposed to her.

Jack jabs me with the end of his stick, getting my attention: "What?"  
"Just one advice. Don't look up on the stands."

"Wh-" I turn my head to look up, but he stops me: "What did I tell you? Don't. Look. Up. The. Stands. Jeesh, is that so hard to get it through your head."

To make sure I got the message, he smacks my helmet with his stick.

"Jack!" I fix the helmet and make sure it sits on my head as it should.

Just before the puck drops, I hear what people are chanting. And it's not nice. What hurts the most is the fact that I know these people, I attend classes with some of them. And now they are booing us. Not the team, but us, players from Minnesota. A quick glance on the bench tells me other guys hear it too. But they, we, won't let that bring us down.

Wellsie is on the face off against Timmy Harrer. I look at my former teammate and at Wellsie only a split second before the game begins. As the puck hits the ice, the hell breaks loose.

 _ **~RAMMER'S POV~**_

After few games of messing the lines up, Herb paired me up with OC. He pats my knee pad with his stick and grins a bit: "How does it feel being home?"  
"Honestly? I am excited to beat them. It may get bloody a bit, though."  
His smirk grows wider: "That's why I came here for."

In the beginning of the second period, players from the U seem quite…tensed. And we are giving them good reasons. First one is Janny in the net, keeping the pucks of the guys he has played with for few years now, away from our net. It's no doubt Herb made him a starter for this game, undoubtedly one of his mind games again. To see if he can cope with the pressure of playing against guys he knows. And he is playing the same game on all of us. Since the first whistle, players from the U have been on the ice a bit more than other guys.

There is one time when Janny covers the puck with his glove and ref blows the whistle. And after that, I hear Jeff Teal hiss: "Good job, traitor."  
"It's just a game, Jeff…"  
"And you are sell-outs. Pretending to be all that because of that USA on the chest."

"Leave him alone."  
He turns to me: "What did you say, _Rammer_? So you turned your back on Gophers too?"

"I said leave him alone. He is right, it's a game."

"You are just pathetic. And hanging out with _Bostonians_ and a fucking girl?"

"What is wrong with you?" I tug on my gloves, pressure slowly rising inside of me. Jeff has been a good teammate for the last year and now he is acting like a little bitch. He huffs and pushes me away: "Stop whining."  
His shove was the final straw before I completely lose it: "Wanna go? You have no idea how much I wanted to beat you last year."  
"You wanted to beat me? Please, look at you!"

Only then I realize what he did. He never dropped his gloves, he only provoked me to drop mine, resulting in a penalty and a powerplay for Gophers. As the ref leads me to the penalty box, I yell at him: "Nice one, coward!"  
Before he can answer, OC lets his rage off the hook. Even from the distance, I can clearly hear him: "You are not enough of a hockey player to fight or what? Too afraid of Ramsey?"

At that point, Jeff loses it and drops his gloves. OC, being himself, doesn't hesitate a second and pulls the younger player by his jersey. What he didn't expect, were Jeff's pissed off line mates. And even OC can't fight off three strong and enraged hockey players, no matter how hard he tries. I glance over at our bench and see his friends from Boston sitting on the boards, anxiously waiting to jump on the ice and help their buddy. Before that can happen, probably the most unlike person helps OC out. Before the game stopped, Herb had me and OC on the defense with Verchota, Brots and Silk as forward on the ice. And out of all three of them, the guy who we call a giant grumpy teddy bear, interferes in a fight. Yes, no one else than Phil Verchota, the giggly and good-hearted teddy bear dropped his gloves to help his teammate out. And just as I think things couldn't get weirder, Neal gets into a brawl with no one else than his own brother. When I look at them again, I notice they are going head to head, no concessions. Only when Neal tackles his brother on the ice, the refs interfere. Before Neal and OC are taken off the ice, I notice dark bruise beneath OC's eye and bloody trace from his lip. Furthermore, even Neal didn't get away with untouched face. Bloodied nose and small bloody spots covering his jersey.

The game ends with our victory 8 to 2 against the university most of us attended before the tryouts. And that leaves me proud for winning against the team that good, but it also feels weird. After all, we proved tonight we are…a team with different guys. With guys who were our bitter rivals last year.


	23. Chapter 22: The Remorse

CHAPTER 22: THE REMORSE

 _ **~NEAL'S POV~**_

Winning the game feels great, sure, but what comes to me after that…not so much. I actually got into a fight with my own brother, if pointless sibling fights are excluded.

"Neal!" I hear someone call my name. And that someone happens to be Aaron. If I got away with bloodied nose, he didn't have that kind of luck- there are still some bleeding wounds on his face and his left cheek is swollen to the point where I am not sure if he can see anything.

"Aaron, I am so so-"  
He approaches me: "Don't worry. It's okay, I understand."

"I really didn't mean to…"  
"Neal, seriously, it's okay. We all knew the game would be heated."  
"But still, you are my brother."  
"So? That's hockey. And your teammates would not be happy if you didn't give it all just because we happen to be related."

"Aaron…"  
"HEY, MOUSE, C'MON!" Mac calls me and beckons me to come to the bus. I look at my brother once again before following the team. Even though Aaron comforted me, I think there's something unspoken. And just before we drive away, I catch a glimpse of my brother and all the bruises I caused. Kim next to me notices that and rests her hand gently on my knee: "Would you like to talk about that?"

I look at her and smile a bit: "It's okay. Just… Aaron is my younger brother. I was supposed to watch over him, make sure not to hurt him, but look what I did."

"It was a game, Neal…"  
"You don't get it, Kimmy. No offense, but you really don't. Aaron and I played in high school together, we were on the same line… We somehow always found each other on the ice, but now I fought my own brother."  
"How long have you two been playing together?"  
"As long as I can remember. And I really hoped we would both make the cut back in Colorado…"  
"But no matter what, you won't be able to play in the same team all the time. And that probably wasn't your first and last fight with him either."

Our eyes meet and I see she is serious. She really thinks fighting with a brother is nothing.

"Neal, I have a sister and we fight a lot. But that's normal."  
Not being in the mood to argue, I lean my head back and sigh: "Guess you are right."

She gently squeezes my knee and rests her head on my shoulder. I put my hand on hers and close my eyes.

I don't know how many minutes or seconds pass before I hear her snoring softly, which makes me chuckle under my breath. I glance around the bus and see all of the guys sleeping. Until something light hits me in the back of my head. I quickly turn around and notice Rob grinning from his seat and rolling another piece of paper into a ball to throw it at my head.

"What do ya want, Robbie? I am not in the mood."  
"You are not in the mood?"

I shake my head and turn around, letting him know this conversation is over for me. But he doesn't let it slip. Soon another piece of paper hits the back of my head, making me look at him again: "What do you want?"  
"Come over here."

I sit down next to him and wait for him to say something. Any sarcastic remark would do it. But he doesn't say anything sarcastic. Instead, he asks quietly: "Is it about Aaron?"  
"It's about the game we played against our former teammates."

"Hey, it was hard for me too. And for other guys as well. But I get it, Aaron is your brother."

"I feel bad for hitting him that hard. In front of our friends, teammates… And to make things worse, he had a girlfriend on the stands."  
"And you had yours on the ice," Mac quietly reminds me, but I shake my head: "That's not the same. I know he wanted to leave a good impression. They have just started dating about a month ago…"

"Mouse, Aaron knows that's the part of the game…"  
"But he is my younger brother, not just some hockey player I got into a fight with. Older brothers are supposed to protect younger brothers, not beat them."  
"I understand, Neal. But as much as I know Aaron, there will be no hard feelings. Trust me."

"Ya think?"  
"I promise. He is like you, too good- hearted and forgiving for his own good."

"Thanks, Rob. Means a lot."

"No problem," he smiles a bit.

"Even though you can be annoying, we are friends and teammates."

"I am not annoying!"  
"Yes, you are."  
"If I am annoying, then you are OCD."  
"I am not OCD, I am just very organized."  
Even though we all know he is probably the most OCD person anyone will ever meet, he is still claiming he is just "organized" and that makes me laugh quietly.

"What are you laughing at?"

I ruffle his hair, just to annoy him a bit more: "Seriously, what's so funny? And why does my hair annoy you?"

I wait for a second after he fixes his hair and then ruffle it a bit, causing him to groan in annoyance: "Mouse, knock it off."

"I'm sorry."

We remain quiet for a bit before he speaks up: "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes. I think I am. Thank you," I sigh after few seconds of silence. He wraps arm around my shoulder and grins: "Don't forget you have friends, not just girlfriend. And you can talk to us too."  
"I know that. Uh, Mac, can I, um, ask you something."  
"Why do I have a feeling this will have nothing to do with Aaron or hockey?"  
I feel my cheeks turn dark red, but mumble anyway: "It's not…"

Even though I am not looking at him, I can hear smirk in his voice when he speaks up: "Is it about Kim?"

When he gets no answer, he softly asks: "It s about her, isn't it?"

"Not about her, but… promise you won't tell anyone."  
"I promise. You have my word."  
And I tell him. I tell him everything about how she thought I don't like her when I stopped her from taking things further few days ago when she was staying at my place. He doesn't say a word, but I feel he is…somehow surprised.  
"You introduced her to your parents?"  
"Yeah, I mean… I asked her to stay with us for those few off days…"  
"Of course she expected something more. You invited her to stay at your house. And you two are dating."  
"Yes… And?"  
"Oh, gosh. Look, you two seem quite serious. And usually when a guy invites _his girlfriend_ to stay with him, that means he expects something. And if a girl accepts, she knows what that means."

After I don't say anything, he looks at me and sighs: "Please tell me, you know what I meant."  
"Uh, I did…but that was not my intention… I mean, we don't know each other enough and…"

Mac smirks a bit and leans closer: "Neal, are you still a virgin?" Even though it's dark, only occasional beam of light from outside cuts through the semi-closed curtains, I have a feeling he can see me blush. Or at least feels the heat, radiating from my cheeks at his question. I look down at my lap and mumble quietly: "None of your business…."

"No kidding!" he actually claps his hands together excitedly and pats my back: "Don't worry, your time will come too. Maybe even before Lake Placid."

"Mac, I am serious, what can I do?"  
"Talk to her. She will understand."

The way he says it makes it sound easy. But I am sure it won't go through smoothly: "I don't think it will be as easy as you think."

"You might me right. She changed since Colorado."  
"Yeah, she did. She didn't let anyone mess around with her back then. And now she is even tougher."

"Look, spend some time with her. Ask her out after a game or a practice. Talk to her. Get to know her. Eventhough you two are together, I think there is still some more you should learn about each other. But focus on the game, okay?"

I nod slowly and look at the guy I like to annoy so much. I know he would skin me at times if he could, yet he is still there to help me.

"Thanks, Mac. For everything."  
"Hey, no problem. You will figure everything out with Kim…"

"But what about Aaron?"

"Neal, I understand it's tough for you. He is your younger brother, you feel like you should always protect him and never hurt him. I understand that. I really do. And so do the others, well, not maybe all of them, but most of us do. Did you talk to Kim about that?"

I nod and take a deep breath: "She said it's the same as typical sibling fights. And I was too tired to explain…"

He shakes his head and looks out of the window. In weak light from outside, I occasionally see his face, but there are no emotions. He is completely expressionless. Then, after a while, he looks at me again: "Listen to me now, okay? I know you like her and I know she is smart, but that doesn't mean she will understand everything. Especially because you are close to Aaron and Paul, okay. And not to mention, we played against our old team, where we practically grew up. So whenever you need to talk about anything like that… you have your old teammates."

I nod wordlessly and quickly hug my teammate. At first he doesn't do anything, I feel him freeze at my action, but then he chuckles quietly and hugs me back. When he breaks the hug, he grins wide: "I thought you have a girlfriend."  
"I thought you have a fiancée. How is Debbie?"

When I ask him about his fiancée, his face suddenly lights up before his grin disappears: "It was nice seeing her on the stands. And that brief moment before we left the arena. Honestly, I miss her. Talking over the phone is just not the same."

"Especially with us around, right?"  
"Especially with you around. I can't talk to her without one of you moaning in the background and it's really annoying."

I can't help but smile at his whined complaint. He has been like that since the day I have known him- on one side loyal, always willing to help and listen, but on the other side slightly whiny.

"What did you expect?"  
"Some privacy, maybe?"

"You know that's not gonna happen?"  
"Thank you for reminding me," he snarls, but there is a trace of grin in his words. Chuckling, I ruffle his hair and he smacks my hand away: "Don't ruffle my hair."

"Okay, okay, Macky."

He huffs in annoyance. It's quite known, he doesn't like to be called Macky, he said the nickname makes him feel "like a twelve-year-old being bullied."

"But seriously, thank you for everything. I am going back to my seat, okay?"

He leans his back on the window and puts hands on the seat. Then he starts nudging me away, slowly pushing me off the seat: "Go ahead. Then I can stretch out."  
"Ya know, maybe I will stay here."  
He gives me one more nudge, nearly sending me on the floor: "No. Go back to Kimmy."

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

I didn't intend to listen to Kim and Neal's conversation. I really didn't. But somehow that's exactly what happened. And I got the feeling there was something not right between them. Even on the ice, during the game, something felt off. Herb put Kimmy on third line tonight to see if she can play forward. She can, but she couldn't find the way to keep a puck in her possession and couldn't make a pass to Neal or receive it without messing up. Needless to say, Herb was not happy, especially since she was supposed to be a forward, not a defender. And they seemed tense around each other. I notice Neal waits until she falls asleep before going to Mac.

"Hey, Brots," I quietly call him when he wants to sit down. He looks at me: "What's wrong, OC?"  
"Everything alright with you?"  
"Yeah. Thank you for asking. How are you? Those three guys got you well…"

I touch part of my forehead where there is still an open cut, blood still seeping out in small droplets. I wipe them and look at my fingers before looking at him: "Perfectly fine. They might, but they paid for it."  
He chuckles a bit and sits down next to Kim: "Yeah, they did. How did it feel fighting them?"  
"Words can't describe how good it felt. But, uh, good job with your brother…"  
"Thanks, Jack…but I didn't want to beat him that hard, I just…I don't know what happened."  
"You regret it?"  
Words are not needed, it's clear he regrets dropping the gloves and hurting his own brother. I lean closer to him and say quietly: "Look, I know it's hard. But if you are going to over think this…you may never make it to Lake Placid."

He gulps hard and looks at me, his eyes suddenly changing: "I never thought of that. I never thought of consequences that could have on…possibly making the team. Thanks, Jack."  
"No problem. But I am serious, don't let anything distract you, deal?"

"Got it."

He sinks back into his seat and soon after joins the other snoring guys. I smirk t the scene and fall asleep myself.


	24. Chapter 23: Happy Birthday!

CHAPTER 23: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

 _ **~NOVEMBER 29**_ _ **th**_ _ **1979~**_

 _ **~NEAL'S POV~**_

Two days after tough loss 2 to 1 against Canadian National Team and after two practices, Billy Baker invites us to his place. After yet another heretic away tour, we are finally back in Minnesota, at least for a bit. And guys used that opportunity to bring their girlfriends over. Actually, that was the idea of Billy's birthday celebration. To bring guys' better half.

"Do you know other girls?" Kim asks me while clipping her hair into a high ponytail. I step behind her back and rest hands on her hips while resting my head on her shoulder.

"I know girlfriends of the guys from Minnesota, but not of the others. From what I know, they are really nice gals and I think you'd get along with them."

"Really?"  
"Yeah. They are all smart and not clingy type of girls. Trust me."

She smiles softly and turns around. Her fingers tousle into my hair as she pulls my head down into a soft kiss.

"I trust you," she smiles when we pull apart and we head out. I open the passanger door for her and she chuckles a bit: "Didn't know you can drive?"  
"Haven't had my license for a long time and I don't drive a lot. You still trust me?"

She pats her chin: "I don't know, I don't know…"  
"You can walk," I wink and poke her side. She squeals and backs against the door, trying to get away from my fingers: "Neal, stop it!"

When I pull away, she relaxes and looks at me: "You would not let me walk."  
"What makes you so sure?"  
"Because you are too nice to do anything like that."

Shaking my head, I start the car and take her hand in mine as we take off. For the entire ride to Bill's place, our fingers are intertwined, but she seems somehow distant…

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

During our road trip, I found myself thinking how… the guy I hated at first makes me laugh even when that's not his intention and when he is trying to piss me off. And being with Neal made me realize that I see myself being with someone different than sweet and always attentive twenty-year old, who I know would never let the girl walk alone. I quickly look at him when he is focused on the road and I don't see someone I'd spend my life with. Yes, he is fun, sweet and loving, but not the type of guy I would date in normal circumstances.

The ride seems longer than it actually is and in a second he stops in front of Bakes' place, he turns to me. Even though he is smiling, his eyes are sad: "Kim, is everything okay? You barely spoke a word on the way here…"

I shake my head and force a small smile, hoping it would convince him: "Everything's fine. No worries."

"Something's wrong, Kimmy, your smile is forced."  
"Jeesh, how do you know that?" I lean back on the seat and look out the window, away from his questioning eyes. His warm hand squeezes mine and I turn to look at him.  
"You've been acting odd lately. And I have seen you smile in those months since the tryouts."

"You are right. Sorry, I- I zoned out a bit."

He chuckles a bit and squeezes my hand again: "I could tell that. Come on, let's join the others."

We are welcomed by loud chatting, laughter and music on the radio. Neal wraps his arm around my waist and leads me further down the hall to what appears to be a living room. Where most of the team already is, including their girlfriends and fiancées. In two cases even wives.

"Neal! Kim! You arrived," Billy gets up from the sofa and retreats his hand from brunette's knee. Neal quickly leans down to me and whispers: "Bill's girlfriend is Diane."

"Billy!" I hug our teammate warmly and he hugs me back. Then he steps to Neal and shakes his hand: "Glad you arrived. Oh, and happy birthday, Mouse."  
"Happy birthday to you too, Bakes. Hey, Diane."  
"Hi, Neal," brunette smiles at Neal and hugs him. He returns her a hug and introduces me when they pull apart: "And this is Kimberly, our teammate and my girlfriend."  
"You got a girlfriend? Congratulations, Neal! Kimberly…"  
"Actually, it's Kim," I chuckle a bit and shake her hand.  
"Well, Kim, I am Diane. Billy's girlfriend. It's nice to meet you."  
"It's nice to meet you too, Diane."

We turn around when the door open and a nicely-dresses couple walks in. And two people forming the couple are no one else than Rob and his fiancée, Debbie.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here we have the best-dressed couple, Robbie McClanahan and future Mrs. McClanahan, Deborah McCary," Verchota yells from the kitchen and lifts his beer can, making all of us laugh and Rob furrow his eyebrows in annoyance: "Very funny, Phil, really. For those who don't know her, this is Debbie, my fiancée."

She smiles shyly and lifts her other hand, while still holding his bicep lightly : "Hi, everyone."

A good hour after the beginning of the party, someone rings. After no one answers for a while, boys being busy with chatting and leaving their girls to talk about everything for a bit, the visitor rings again. With a sigh, Rizzo's girlfriend Donna stands up and looks at us with a small smile: "Our boys are too busy to answer the door as it appears. Yes, I am coming, I am coming!" she yells the last sentence to the door when the doorbell rings through the house again. Soon after, we hear her yell: "Jack O'Callahan! Come on in."

Before he even enters the room, I hear his heavy accent: "Sorry we are late, Jenny got lost."  
"Did not!"

"Jenny?" I turn to Sharlene, Jimmy's girlfriend, and mouth the question. She nods and smiles: "Jack's on-and-off girlfriend. Seems like they are together again."

 _Jack has a girlfriend?  
_ "You look surprised. Are you okay?" Debbie puts hand on my shoulder, trying to gain my attention. Julie, Verchota's girlfriend takes a sip of her drink and looks at me: "You look like that shocked you. I mean, aren't you with Neal?"

"I am… just, I didn't know OC has a girlfriend."  
"Well, yes, they have been really serious again since you came back from European tour," Silky's girlfriend speculates. Jack Hughes' girlfriend, Allison, continues: "I mean, they have been together since his sophomore year. With minor breaks, but they always got back. You'll see why, they are just meant to be."

And then they finally enter the living room, OC having his arm wrapped around his girlfriend's waist and her hand tucked in his backside pocket. As soon as he sees us, familiar smirk draws on his face: "Girls' debate club? Heya, Kim, where's Broten?"

I look up at him and smile sweetly: "Where the rest of the guys is. In the kitchen, probably drinking beer. Wanna join girls' debate club, you would feel like home."

"No, thank you for your offer. I am going to spend some time away from annoying teammate with other guys. Jenny, wanna join?"  
"Well, I would like to see your friends from Boston again."

Before they leave 'girls' debate club' as Jack put it, he looks over his shoulder and our gazes meet for a split second. In that moment, it hits me even harder. I might be catching feelings for a taken guy even though we hated each other to guts months ago.

As soon as we are alone, Rammer's girlfriend of few months, Jill, leans forward and whispers: "Love triangle, maybe?"  
"What are you talking about, Jilly?"

"Come on, we all saw how you were looking at him."  
"He is a great teammate, but that's all, I swear."  
I see in their eyes they are not convinced, but anyone on the team could tell that's our usual bickering.

Few hours and few beers later, I feel my veins overflowing with intoxicating liquid, resulting in some, even for me, unusual courage. Somehow, we end up talking how far has either of us gone when Bah quips: "Neal and Kim barely hold hands, right, Kimmy!"  
I look at him and even though my vision is blurry, I see his grinning face. And that tips me off. I grab Neal's hand and pull him closer, our lips smashing together. Hearing him groan quietly motivates me to take things a bit further and soon my fingers are on his belt clip, trying to unbuckle it. His hands were resting low on my back before, but are now on my hands and it takes some time for me to realize he is actually trying to gently push me away. When I get what he has be trying to tell me, I pull my hands back and rest them on my chest. The glimpse of his beaming eyes and slightly swollen lips, mixed with the thought of him pushing me away, triggers something inside of me and before I even realize what I am doing, I slap him. Open-palmed slap across his baby face and in front of his teammates. It seems like the time has stopped for a split second before one of the guys pulls me off Neal while Robbie unwraps his arm from Debbie's shoulders to help his teammate. Without even looking at me, he says to the guys holding me away: "Get her out of here. Janny, Rammer, take her out of here. Are you okay, bud?"

After I slapped Neal, Janny and Rammer leave me outside the house for a bit. 'To think', as they said it. While freezing my ass off, I observe snowflakes painting the surroundings white and I feel myself slowly sobering up. And only then I realize what I really did- I slapped the guy who has been supporting me all along, who let me in his home, introduced me to his parents and been over all, the sweetest guy I know, that I have ever known.

"Ya know, what you did to Neal…was just low."

I turn around and see Jack standing few steps away from me, leaning on the outside wall of the house and slowly smoking a cigar.

"Thank you for your opinion, but I don't need it."

"Did I step on your toes?"  
"Don't you have a girlfriend back in? Go back to her and leave me alone."

He doesn't do that. Instead, he sits down next to me and blows some smoke above my head: "Ya know, Neal really likes you."  
"Wow, did it really take you that long?"  
"Can you shut up? You are annoying as hell and I wonder how did he keep up with you. I wouldn't."  
"Good thing I hate you then."  
"Do you?" he smirks and turns his body to me. The closeness of him distracts me only for a second, but that's one second too much: "Y-Yes, I do."  
Even though he gives me no answer, his actions tell enough. Smirk on his face grows even wider and his gaze locks with mine. And if I thought I sobered up…boy, I was wrong. There is no other explanation than being drunk out of my mind for what happened. We were sitting on a bench, with about 3 feet between us and next thing I know was his hands on my back and his lips on mine. Not only there, they found their way down to my neck and below my ear, turning me into nothing but a moaning mush. I put my hands on his shoulders and gently shove him on the bench, straddling him. He smirks up at me and winks: "Like to lead, I see."

"Oh, you have no idea," I mumble before my lips attach to his.

I don't want to think what could happen if Coxy didn't storm out in the next second.

"Oh, I am sorry, am I interrupting something here?"

Jack almost throws me off him and off the bench before trying to straighten up his hair and shirt: "No. What do you want?"  
"Nothing. I am sorry, I will leave you…alone to talk."

As soon as the door close, Jack stands up from the bench and walks to the door: 'We will never speak of this again."  
"I don't know what are you talking about…"

Without even looking at me, he opens the door and heads in, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Which are anything but nice right now. Great, now I can add one more thing I gave Neal for his birthday. First slapping him and then making out with our teammate behind his back. Small tears fall on my lap and I furiously wipe them away before starting to sob uncontrollably. Who would've thought joining men's team would cause so much trouble and heart aches?

I don't know how long does it take for me to let it all out, but one thing I know for sure is that I am seconds away from turning into an human icicle quite soon. Wiping traces of tears from my cheeks, I stand up and head back in with only one intention on my mind. To find Neal.

When I finally find him in guest bedroom, sitting on the bed, my heart breaks.  
"Neal?" I enter the room cautiously and sit on the bed, wrapping arms around his neck. He doesn't move a muscle and continues to stare in the wall. With a sigh, I kiss skin on his neck, trying to get at least a bit of his attention.

"Neal, I am sorry…"  
He finally looks at me, his cheeks and eyes red from tears. What hits me the most, is a red print of my palm on his cheek: "Me too."  
"W-What for?"  
"For not wanting to take a step further. I am just not ready yet."  
I rub his shoulders, leaving soft kisses on the base of his neck. My breath hits his skin as I murmur: "Don't be sorry for that…Come on, let's get back…"  
"You can go. I will stay here for a bit longer."  
"Neal…"

the bed squeaks when I get up and walk to him, stopping right in front of him. I kneel in front of his legs and take his hand in mine: "Please, look at me."  
"I did look at you," he mumbles, but looks up from the floor and into my eyes. This is going to be the hardest thing, but I can't play games with him anymore, not after that brief moment OC and I had.

"Neal, I know it's your birthday, but…"  
"You are breaking up with me. I expected that. How long have you been thinking of that?"  
"Since the game against Flint Generals…"  
"For an entire month?"  
"I am sorry…I really am. How did you know what was my intention?"  
"Because… can you please leave?"

I hear in his voice he is on the verge of tears again and I quietly leave the room. On my way back to the living room, I bump into Mac, who seems really concerned: "Where's Mouse?"  
"G-Guest bedroom…where are the others?"  
"Living room," he quickly says before sprinting to where I just came from. Before joining the others, I take a deep breath.

 _ **~NEAL'S POV~**_

I hear the door open again, this time even more slowly than before. But the footsteps are heavier and soon the bed creaks under the weight of someone too heavy to be Kim. I look up and see Mac's face, half hidden in shadows from the lights outside.

"I am okay."

Quietly, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and in that moment, I break. Shamelessly, I start crying on his shoulder, probably ruining his Ralph Lauren sweater. But he doesn't even flinch. Wordlessly he waits until I drench his sweater before handing me a tissue: "What happened?"

"She broke up with me," I admit quietly and look down again. He stiffens up a bit: "She dumped you? Did she tell you why?"  
"No. just… I knew that day would come. It was because I wasn't ready to…sleep with her."  
"Shut up, you know that's not true. If she really loved you, that wouldn't be a problem."

I look up at him: "How did you get a girl like Debbie? Look at you, are twenty-one and already engaged…"

Small smile finds its way on his face when his fiancée is mentioned, but he soon turns serious again: " That's not important now. Okay? Promise me one thing."  
"I don't know…"  
"It's about you and no one else. No matter what happens between Kim and you, you will stay focused on making this team. Clear?"

"But what if we will be on the same line…. What if that's going to-"  
"No 'but's here, okay? You will stay focused, okay? This team needs a spark of the U. And who would be better at delivering spark than the youngest and most excited players? As for the girls…don't worry, you will find the right one. Kim was your first girlfriend, right?"

I slowly nod and wipe my nose in the tissue again before stuffing it into my pocket. I stand up and offer my hand to Mac. Chuckling, he takes it and stands up. Next thing I know is him engulfing me into a friendly hug with a back-pat: "Don't worry, okay? Everything will be sorted out when the time is right."  
"I know…I just…I really love her."

I see him smile a bit: "I know you do. That's why it hurts so much. If you didn't, it wouldn't be that painful. But you will get over it. Oh, Mouse…happy birthday."  
"Thanks, Mac…and thank you for taking me away from her earlier…"  
"You didn't deserve that…well, sometimes, I want to punch or slap you myself, but that was uncalled for."  
"She was drunk and Bah provoked her…"  
He shakes his head a bit and chuckle under his breath: "You are still defending her."  
"I will stop."  
"No, you don't have to, it's adorable. And weird. But mostly adorable."

He opens the door and gestures: "Ladies first."  
"I will actually stay here for a bit more…"  
"You need company?"

I almost say yes, but I feel him wanting to go back and spend some more time with Debbie and other guys and their girlfriends, so I only shake my head. He smiles and closes the door, leaving me alone in the dark.


	25. Chapter 24: First Glimpse of Lake Placid

CHAPTER 24: FIRST GLIMPSE OF LAKE PLACID

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

After playing against Adirondack on December 11th, we finally arrive to Lake Placid for our preolympic tournament. Ever since Bakes' birthday, atmosphere between Neal and I has been…tense, to say the least. I slip on the seat next to Jimmy Craig just before he passes by. For a second it seems like he is going to smile, but nothing like that happens. His palm accidentally touches my shoulder gently when he walks past and I look up at him, expecting…anything. A smile or even the slightest look. Nothing. At least from him. But I get squinted eyes from a guy I should've known won't let me off the hook easily- Rob McClanahan. And if that's not enough, always cheerful and grimaces-making Dave Christian glares daggers at me. Slightly uncomfortable from their glaring, I slip deeper into my seat and look away from them.

"What you did to him…"  
"I don't want to talk about that, Jimmy," I quickly silence always loud chatterbox next to me and look at him.

"I mean it, you better not bring that up."

"I am just saying that Neal didn't deserve that."

"Whatever you say," I mumble in response, lean my head back and close my eyes in an attempt to sleep.

"Kim, wake up, we are here."

 _It feels like someone is calling me, but I can't point a finger at who could that be…_

"Kim, wake up, we are in Lake Placid."

 _It's a weird feeling when it feels like someone is shaking you…_

"Oh, for God's sake!"

With a loud yelp, I jolt up and look around myself. First thing I notice is how my clothes are drenched. And the next thing I see is Harrington holding his flask of water and grinning.

"Are you serious!? It's in the middle of winter and you think it would be smart to pour water on me?"

He shrugs his shoulders and grins even wider: "Well, you weren't responding to JC's gentle waking. So we thought that would be the most effective way to wake you."

The boys chuckle at my groans and Pav hands me a sweater from his hand baggage.  
"Thanks, Pav. For preventing me from freezing out there."

His lips curve into a smile and he responds with a short nod before heading off the bus. I keep my eyes on him until Jimmy shakes my shoulder: "Don't even thing about ruining Pav."  
"He is not even my type. Now every guy I look at is what, a romantic interest or what?"  
"You never know. Gonna move or not?"

"Okay, okay, don't be nervous."

With Jimmy following me, I exit the bus and look around myself. And what I see, takes my breath away. I knew the Olympics would take place in a picturesque venue, but what I see…beats everything I have ever imagined. A small village, surrounded by trees and near the lake, now covered with snow. I take a step forward and bump into one of the guys.  
"You can't see where are you going, uh?" Jack chuckles and tucks his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am going all the way."  
"Bet ya do…"  
"I meant all the way to the Olympics and not anything else," I blush and look down, away from him. When he speaks up, I hear a slight grin in his voice: "I wasn't referring to anything else."

"Of course you weren't…Asshole."

"Brown," he immediately snaps back and shoves me away. Not expecting that, I stumble back and nearly knock Silk down. In an attempt to stay on his feet, he flaps his arms around. Rizzo helps him stand up straight and chuckles: "Drinking too much again, Silky?"  
Silk rolls his eyes and removes Rizzo's hand from his arm: "Very funny, Rizzie."

Before their bickering can continue, Herb cuts it short. He stops in front of us and gets our attention without even trying: "Okay, gentlemen, don't expect to experience the place, we have important games to play before your three days off."

Most of the guys sigh at the thought of going home for a bit after those long months on the road, countless games and heretic schedule. We haven't seen our families in long time, except for the guys from Minnesota who had chance to see their families at least for a bit.

"But if I see anyone of you daydreaming…"

He doesn't need to finish his threat, we all know what that means. Over-thinking can cost anyone of us an U.S. jacket and a jersey.

After arrival we are given some free time to unpack our bags and just relax for a bit. Herb apparently notified hotel staff there is also one girl on the team and I am actually given a separate room in the same floor as the boys. Just as I unpack the last piece of luggage, someone knocks on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Neal."

As soon as he tells his name, my heart flutters a bit and I exhale deeply. But I open the door anyway. He looks at me and smiles a bit, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"What do you need?"

"I thought, uh…" he nervously fiddles his fingers and takes a deep breath. He looks down and when he lifts his gaze again, I see tears gathering in corners of his eyes.

"I thought we should, um, talk…about everything."

He looks so heartbroken that I don't have a heart to reject him.

"Give me a second," I close the door and bury head in my hands. Why did I even agree to go out with him all those months ago? Why did I think it would be fun to flirt with him back in Colorado? A part of me wants to keep the door closed and ignore him, but I decide I can't do that to him. That would be the final straw. And he doesn't deserve that, he doesn't deserve being sent home because his mind would be somewhere else.

When I open the door again, he is still there, exactly where he was when I closed the door.

"Let's go to the bar, okay?"

He smiles a bit again and I can swear there is a spark of hope in his eyes again. As soon as I close the door, I want to take his hand in mine, just like we held hands months ago. My fingers brush against his skin, but he pulls his hand away and mumbles: "Don't do this."

"So…how are you doing?" I ask after moments of uncomfortable silence. He tucks his hands deeper in the pockets of his jeans and exhales a long breath.

"Good question. I don't know. I still don't know what…I just wanna know why?"

If I knew we'd ever have this conversation, I would never even think of getting involved with him. Just seeing him like that…

"I don't know, Neal."  
"'Is it because I didn't want to, you know?"

I smile a bit at his adorable awkwardness and shake my head: "Not at all. Just…look, I just realized you might not be the guy I pictured myself with."

If his expression wasn't there to betray him, I would believe he wasn't hurt by my words. He doesn't even flinch, but he seems to get a bit older, his eye darker and sadder: "I get it. I can't compare to OC, right?"

"W-What do you mean by that? I don't like OC, how did you get that idea? That's an absurd. Absolute absurd…"

"Can you cut the act, please?"

I stop and grab his arm, making him stop too and turn to me: "What do you want me to say?"  
"Nothing. I am just saying things we all see."  
"Jack and I hate eachother."  
"You don't. Sorry I dragged you out in this cold. But I think it's too early…"  
"No, Neal, we will talk about this. And we will do it right now."

Leaving him no other option, but to follow, I lead him into the nearest bar where we sit down. When the bartender shows up, I open my mouth to order, but he cuts me before I let a single vowel out of my mouth.

"Two beers. And my treat," he turns to me before saying the last sentence. For the first time I notice that guy from Colorado is gone. Neal I met in July would never just order drink for anyone else, let alone speaking up and standing up for himself. Herb's _wunderkind_ would never do that…

Before we get our beverages, he puts his hands on the table: "So…"  
"What did you mean by "saying things you all see"?"  
"I was right," he chuckles quietly and looks at his hands. That tips me off a bit and I put my hand on his somehow roughly.

"What about, Neal?"

"If you hated OC…or just strongly dislike him…you wouldn't care what the others think. I am not a shrink…"  
"Don't pretend to be then."

"I am not a shrink," he repeats, raising his voice just a little bit, but enough to keep me quiet.

"But I think you like him. Most of us think so."  
"Well, thank you, doctor Broten, but I am sure that's not why we came here."

He smiles a bit: "Yeah. That's not why we came here. Just wanted to see how are you doing…"  
"Fine…I mean, not that there's plenty of time for us to think about…"  
"You don't think about what happened?"

"No. Don't tell me you have time…"  
"How pathetic will it sound if I say I think about it? Look, Kim, I will be honest. I know we wouldn't last, but I miss you."

His voice breaks and he becomes _my_ Mouse again. The guy Mac 'baptized' to Mouse because of his squeaky, I-barely-hit-the-puberty voice.

"I am sorry for giving you false hope."  
"You knew since the beginning we won't last, didn't you?"

"I… I tried to imagine my life with you, but I couldn't do it. I love how caring you are, but…I have a thing for loud, competitive and tough guys."

"Like OC?"

"Yes, like OC…Wait, no, that doesn't count! I wasn't paying attention."

He only shakes a head before pulling out his wallet and paying for our drinks. As soon as the waiter puts the drinks down, I grab one of the bottles and empty nearly half of it in long sips.

"How do you do that?" Neal sounds surprised and I with the corner of my eye, I see him take his bottle and slowly take a small sip.

"How do you think girls' college hockey looks like at Brown?"

He chuckles a bit and takes another sip: "Sounds like you girls have fun…"  
"Yeah, you know how it is. Girls just want to have fun. Like you guys have never been like that."  
His smirk grows wider and he says nothing more. But he doesn't have to. Going by his expression I suspect not only he knows what is going on, but also he has experienced it once or twice.

"Is Herbie's _wunderkind_ secretly a party-animal?"

He looks a bit ashamed by that and looks at me with puppy eyes: "It was a big win in both cases…and I might had a bit too much."

"Why that doesn't surprise me?"

He gently smacks my hand and shakes his head: "Shush. It was only twice."

"But probably not the last time…"

 _It surely wasn't the last time…_


	26. Chapter 25: You Will Always Have Us

CHAPTER 25: "YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE US"

" _ **KOHO'S POV~**_

Neal left the room as soon as his last bag was unpacked and I haven't seen him since. He said something about "talking through stuff", but didn't mention who does he have talk to. For his own good, I hope he wasn't in such rush to talk to Kim.

But my hopes he was smart enough not to do that are turned into dust when someone loudly nods on the door. I am just in the middle of going through a pile of photographs I brought from home all those months ago and my first though is to ignore the knocking. When the visitor knocks again, I get up from bed with a sigh: "Okay, okay, don't be ner- Jesus Christ, Neal, what happened to you?"

"I-I want-wanted to ta-talk to K-Kimmy," he sobs loudly and leans head on the door frame. _Oh, no, he didn't._

"Don't tell me you went to see her…"

Choking on even louder sobs, he nods.

"Oh, god, Neal…," I pull him in the room and close the door. He collapses on bed, crumpling small pile of his clothes beneath him. I sit down next to him and put hand on his back: "What happened?"

"I am so s-stupi-id!"

"It can be that ba-"

"I drank too much!" he exclaims and shakes his head violently. When he says that, I slowly start getting an idea of what may happened. Neal is the kind of guy, who doesn't stand alcohol very well. I learnt that in those few months. It usually takes him one beer for him to become giggly and slightly red-cheeked.

"How much did you drink?"

With his head still in the pillow, he shrugs his shoulders and mumbles something incoherent in puffy object on his bed.

"What was that? Sorry, I didn't hear you…"  
"Two beers."

Oh gosh. That's too much for him and now I am really afraid of what he may tell me.

"Kim had four…"

Oh, no. Even worse. Tipsy Neal is…okay. Tipsy Neal and tipsy ex-girlfriend is a bad combination. Especially in this case, when Neal is clearly not over Kim, no matter what she did to him during Bakes' birthday bash.

"Neal…don't tell me you kissed. Please, don't say that."

Going by his head still buried in the pillow and lack of any other gestures, I know that's exactly what happened. He finally looks up, his eyes big and sorry: "It…It just happened."

"Damn it, Neal! Why do you want to make things worse for yourself?"

He sits up on the bed and puts hand on his lap. Knitting his fingers into a tight knot, he finally looks up: "I-I don't know…"  
"What did she do?"

"No-nothing."

"Neal, you are making things difficult for both of you. No matter how much you like her, she doesn't feel the same. You have to understand that."

"I know, Davey, I understand t-that."

"Then why did you…do what you did?"

As soon as I ask him that, I find out why. He is not over her, he misses her and of course he kissed her.

"You want her to change her mind, right? Neal, I don't want to be harsh, but _you have to get over her_. She is not going to change her mind."

"I-I am aw-aware of that…"

"I don't think you are, Mouse. Sorry to tell you that, but you are not ready to let her go."

The look in his eyes makes my heart break. Even without any other emotions, he looks like a little kid, but now…the only word that comes to my mind is devastated. Broken. I sigh and pat his back: "You have to get over her. It's not worth it. Look how far you got. Are you really willing to risk everything because of her?"

He shakes his head a bit and wipes his nose with his sleeve. With another sigh, I get up and pass him a box of tissues: "Clean yourself up. We are going out."

"B-But where?"  
"There's only one place to eat when you are sad."

Small smile finally draws on his cheeks and he whispers: "McDonald's."  
"Exactly. I saw one not far away from here."  
"What about Herb? He said we have to stay here and rest."

"We will stay in Lake Placid…well, wider area of it. Beside, you need that."

"But we should really stay here…"  
"Well, I am older. And you clearly need something to make you smile again. So we are going to listen to me."

He doesn't move a muscle until I grab his hand and pull him up: "Come on, let's go."  
"I really think we should stay here…"

"Neal, you need McDonald's. And as your friend, it's my duty to take you there."

Thirty minutes later, Neal and I walk in McDonald's not far away from our dorms. Only we are not alone- somehow we ran into Mac and he ended up going with us.

"How can you two even eat here?" our rich boy scrunches his nose as we walk in and looks around the place, his eyes filled with disgust.

"What's wrong with McDonald's?"  
"Uh, the food is junk and it's not healthy."  
"Because it's good. What do ya want, Robbie?"

"Nothing. How can anyone eat this?"

"Your loss. As always, Brots?"

"Yes, please."

I head to the counter and notice Neal taking Mac to one of the tables. Before they sit down, Mac looks around the dining area and finally gets some poor girl's attention. He waves his hands around, apparently trying to get something from her and whatever he's saying is making Neal roll his eyes.

"Sir? What would you like to order?"

"Uh, can you please give me one large Chicken McNuggets, two medium Pommes Frites and…actually, no. can you please give me one large and one small Chicken McNuggets, three medium Pommes Frites, one Burger, one large salad and three sodas, please."

I quickly glance at two teammates and see Mac still ranting about something to the poor waitress. With a slight smirk, I turn back to the counter: "Can you add one more Milkshake, please?"

After paying for the food, I take the trey and head back to the table. As soon as I sit down, I ask: "What was that all about?"  
"Well, Mac wanted napkins. To clean the table, because it wasn't clean enough."

"I don't know about you two, but I don't want to get sick because of bacteria on the tables."

"The table was clean, the girl told you they always clean the tables, just like they do in other restaurants."

"I still noticed it wasn't clean like it's supposed to be…," he mumbles before sitting down and scrunching his face again in disgust.

"What now, Robbie?" I sigh and put one nuggets, a portion of pommes, salad and milkshake in front of him. He looks at the food and shakes his head: "Those chairs…do they disinfect them too? And what is that?"  
"Food. We are not going to let you starve. Come on, it's not that bad. About seats…seriously?"  
"You know how many bacteria can be on a plastic surface like that? And god knows what else."  
"Robbie, you have to relax. Forget about that for now and just enjoy the food. Jeesh. Why we are here now is because Brots needs us, okay. So please, relax for a bit."

"She did what?"

Robbie's voice is cracked in surprise when Neal explains what happened. When he started talking, he couldn't hold back sobs and little sighs, which now results in red and puffy eyes. While Mac has his hands clenched into fists and glares at Neal like he is challenging him to say that again.  
"It was a mistake."  
"Neal! What were you thinking? Koho, tell him that's not how breakup works."  
"He is right. When you break up with someone, you don't go out drinking. Especially not so soon after you went your separate ways."

"But this is different, she is my, I mean our, teammate. I can't just avoid her…"  
"We don't mean avoiding her. Just don't go out with her. Neal, mark my words. _It. Is. Over,"_ Mac emphasizes and supports every word by slamming his fist against the table.

"I know. And I know there's someone else on her mind."  
"Yeah, Olympics. Wait, some _one_?"  
We both look at our squeaking friend, who smiles a bit and stuffs some food in his mouth. With his mouth full, he mumbles: "Not saying anything else."  
Mac shakes his head and eats a whole nugget without even taking a breath. Before he speaks up, he makes sure there is not a single crunch of food in his mouth remaining. And after that, he carefully wipes his mouth: "That's pretty good."

Now Brots finally chuckles and looks at me with a smirk. I look back at him, trying hard to suppress laughter. Mac notices that and looks at us: "What's so funny?"

I quickly glance at Neal and chuckle: "Should we tell him?"  
"Tell me what? Guys, stop grinning like two…pardon my French, idiots, and tell me what's so funny."

"Nothing, nothing. Ya enjoying your food?"

"It's pretty good actually…still unhealthy, but it's okay."

Neal and I exchange a glance again and this time it's even harder to hold back laughter. Mac shakes his head in disbelief: "I can't believe how childish you are…"

Only later, Neal gets to Rob and grins: "Ya know…. Most of the food is actually said to be made out of leftovers, which are mixed together."

If Robbie's face was nothing but disgust before, we apparently haven't seen it all. Because his expression after shocking revelation is indescribable and he seems like he is going to throw up.

"W-Why didn't you tell me e-earlier?" he mutters and looks at both of us.

"We didn't want to ruin your appetite. Especially because ya seemed to enjoy eating."

"You two are…you two are just horrible! How much of those leftovers did I eat? And what about the salad? Huh?"  
"Robbie, relax. It's not a secret McDonald's is a junk food restaurant."  
" _THAT'S WHY I NEVER EAT IT!"_ our fellow Minnesotan flips out and storms away from us, his jacket flailing behind him and wind messing up his hair.

"Mac! Rob, come on! You ate it only once…"  
"Yeah, but that means doing more sit ups. And running! And I want to go to bed early at least one night! ONE DAMN NIGHT!"

The ride back to the place we are staying is rather uncomfortable. Mac is still not over the fact he actually ate junk food and liked it. Plus, that we didn't tell him what the food was said to be made off. We say our goodnight's at the door of his room before Neal and I head to our room. Yes, we are roommates and right now I am happy for that. I can keep an eye on him, which can't really hurt.

Before falling asleep, I hear him whisper: "Thank you. For being by my side."

"Don't worry, Brots. You will always have us. I promise."


	27. Chapter 26: Czech-ked

CHAPTER 26: CZECH-KED

There is something thick, something suffocating and unsettling in the air before the puck drops for the preolympic game against Czechoslovakia. The team has already played two games against "B" teams, but this time…it feels different. The air in Team USA's locker room is filled with tension, which has nothing to do with heart stings among few of the people involved. At the first glimpse, everything seems normal – players sitting in their assigned stalls, trying to ease the unspoken tension by cracking jokes and keeping small talk; their sticks ready…except for Rob's, who is still examining them carefully just to be sure there is no crease in the tape. Even the pranksters of the team seem unusually quiet and calm, not even trying to pull anything on their teammates.

Twenty-three heads look up when Herb opens the door and walks in, his footsteps heavy and the sound of his shoes echoing through the quiet room. His words are quiet, but they still get everyone's attention: "This may be only your preolympic game, but I hope we will see only the best of you. Remember, this is only their "B" team and winning against them does not mean you will win against the team you are going to face in February. I expect nothing but great game from all of you. I have three more players to cut and no one is safe."

No one is safe – meaning not even his _wunderkind_ Neal Broten, his _Magic man_ Mark Johnson, not his _star player_ at the _U_ Robbie McClanahan. No one.

"Suts, do you have something more to say?" he asks blonde defense player with seemingly always red cheeks and turns his attention to him. Bob Suter looks at his coach and shakes head: "Nothing, coach."

Kenny Morrow, another defenseman with bushy brown beard, jabs him with the end of his stick, getting blonde's attention. When Suts turns to him, Kenny mouths: "Say something. Pep talk."

Bob feels his throat dry a bit as he looks at his coach and then at his teammates. Nodding slowly, he clears his throat: "Uh, we have proved our quality on previous games and we can do it again. There were defeats and victories, but this game belongs to us. I know we can win this game, we have worked hard for it."

After finishing his pep talk, he looks at Herb, who gives him a short nod: "Alright, gentlemen, go out there and make sure you give your best."

Encouraged by shouts of few fans on the stands, team gets ready to skate on the ice. Before their blades touch the ice, Mike Eruzione, for now an unofficial captain, looks at every single one of his teammates and nods: "We can do this."

And the last thing anyone does, is that Jack O'Callahan looks at his female teammate and pats her helmet: "Be careful out there, Brown."  
"Always am," Kimberly grins and glances at Neal. When their gazes meet, she lifts her thumbs and mouths: "Good luck.". Her ex fling smiles and nods, mouthing: "To you too."

And after their short exchange, twenty-three players hit the ice. Ten minutes later, the announcer names starting lines. It has not happened in a long time, but Kim is one of the starters, replacing Robbie McClanahan on left wing. But she can't get rid of a feeling deep in her stomach something will go horribly wrong…

 _ **~KIM'S POV~**_

I prepare to receive the pass from Billy Baker, but the puck hits the blade of my skates instead. Somehow and thanks to Herb's "quick feet exercises", I kick the puck on my stick and dart down the ice. Quick, one-second long glance around me reveals that Magic is near, his stick on the ice, and he is ready to receive the pass. When I notice one of the Czechoslovakia players approaching me, I quickly pass the puck to him and avoid the contact with more experienced and heavier player. After dodging him, I force my muscles to work harder and skate faster to help Magic. He passes the puck right back to me and shouts: "Keep it out of our zone! Line change!"

"Got ya!"

I am not the best puck-handler and this sure as hell isn't a college hockey. I am aware of that and that scares me the most when Magic leaves me alone with one other defender on the ice, while three other players call for a line change.

"Kimmy!" Rammer yells from the center ice and smacks his stick against the ice. Without a single thought, I pass him the puck and skate to the bench for a change. And Rammer seizes the opportunity fresh power gives him… the buzzer sounds through the area and crowd erupts in loud cheering. Our effervescent primadonna manchild has scored a goal, giving us 2 to 0 lead.

"Woooo, Rammer!" Jack jumps over the boards and skates to now grinning Ramsey, engulfing him into a hug.

After Robbie scores another goal, I take the shift again. And a second before my skates touch the ice, I get that feeling something bad is going to happen, but I ignore it. Nothing can keep me away from the goal.

The feeling Kim had was anything but innocent. And she realizes that only few seconds after taking her shift on the ice. She receives another pass from Magic and speeds down the ice, dodging tall Czechoslovakia players until she finds herself alone in front of the net. She makes a rookie mistake and lets down her guards for a bit, thinking there is no one behind her. She dekes twice and swings her stick back when she feels someone push her from behind. And someone's stick pulling her skates back. She almost loses balance, but she does lose possession of the puck. However, this is not where it ends- after regaining her balance, her skate hits the post and she trips. Being close to the goaltender, Czechoslovakia players immediately hurry to help him and one of them, tall defender pushes her closer to the boards. She shoves him away, which angers him. But he knows better than starting a fight. He will get his chance…

And he does, less than a minute later, when the story repeats. Again, she almost makes it through the defense, but one of the opposing players manages to force her into skating behind the net. When she is near the boards, angered player checks her from behind, sending her small and unaccustomed-to-hard-hits figure flying into boards head first. After she hits the boards, her lifeless body remains on the ice and the arena sinks into a complete silence. Her teammates leap over the boards and skate to their girl, their _chicka_ as some of the guys like to call her.

Surprisingly, the guy who hated her the most, is the one to kneel down next to her and put his hand gently on her back: "Come on, Brown. Get up."

"She is not moving, Jack," Ramsey kneels down too and look at Jack before his gaze jumps to his female teammate.

"Brown, you got us well, come on," Jack tries again, but he is starting to realize this is not a joke. She is really not moving and when he leans down, he sees her eyes are closed.

"Come on, Brown. COME ON, wake up!" now his voice is broken as he is trying to fight back tears of fear. He looks up at other teammates: "Get Doc. Get him _now!"_

Neal Broten and Eric Stobel went to the bench to get their doctor, Dr. Visvaldis George Nagobads, better known as _Doc_ , before Jack ordered that and soon after, Doc kneels down next to Kim. He looks at Jack and Mike Ramsey, the players closest to her and says quietly: "Help me turn her around. Jack, carefully hold her neck and support her head. I hope nothing is broken, but I don't want to risk anything."

Jack does as told and gently holds girl's neck. A strand of her hair touches his skin and he automatically looks at her. He sees her closed eyelids and remembers that brief moment they shared, when her eyes beamed a bit brighter. Her red cheeks from the exertion of playing the game on such high level and pale face.

"Don't do this to us, Kimmy. Please, don't do this."

"Jack, are you okay?" Ramsey asks his Charlestown friend and looks at him worriedly. Jack looks up and his eyes fill with rage and promise to revenge: "Yes. But I will kill that son of a bitch who did this. I promise."

He keeps his promise. It doesn't last long until she is taken off the ice on the stretcher with the medical team surrounding her. Last glimpse of her teammates get when they move her lifeless body on a stretcher, her neck being supported with foam. And the sight of her in that shapes tips off Jack even more. He has always been known as an enforcer, fighting for himself and his teammates, but he has never felt a stronger urge for revenge than now.

"Jack, you are shaking…"  
"Coxy, you know me."  
"Yes…what are you trying to say?"  
"And you know when I say something, I mean it."

"Again, where are you going with this?"  
"Listen to me. I don't get what the penalty is, I will beat the shit out of that Czechoslovakia trash who did this to Kim."  
"I thought you didn't like her…"

The fire in Jack's eyes when he turns to his friend from Boston University, causes Coxy to shut up immediately. And the fire in his words proves how serious he is: "I do not care. What happened between us…doesn't matter now. What matter is that someone _injured our girl_. She was carried off the ice and last time we saw her, she was _unconscious."_

Coach Brooks looks at his direction and Jack wastes no time to jump on the ice when the time is right. Surely, Brooks did not intend to send his enforcer on the ice, but the destiny took all the matters into its own hands. And so it happens Jack O'Callahan is on the ice in the same time as the guy who injured their girl. OC circles around like a hungry shark and even his teammates know not to pass him the puck, that his only intention is to get his revenge. And he gets the chance when the same player seems to struggle a bit by the boards. Jack speeds up and checks the goon into the boards with much bigger force than Czech player used on Kimmy. He turns around: "What is your problem?"  
"Real brave, goon, checking girls into boards."

"And who are you?"  
"Her teammate," Jack pushes him away and smirks: "What, afraid to fight. What a pussy."

His smirk grows wider as he sees the player tug on his gloves: "What did you call me?"  
"You didn't hear me. Pussy. I called you pussy."

"You are dead."  
"Oh, yeah, bring it on."

Angered player swears in his native language before swinging his fists. Jack, usually a fast fighter, did not expect a hit to come that soon and that turns out to be a mistake when bare knuckles connect with his jaw. But that's also what causes him to swing his fists back before thinking. His fist connects with his opponent's jaw, only he was aiming a bit higher, near his ear. Satisfaction fills his veins when he feels his fist get in a contact with Czech's ear cartilage. From his fighting career, he knows how much being hit in the ear hurts. And when the other player cringes a bit, satisfaction in Jack grows even bigger. But it doesn't last long – Czech player uses his muscles to serve Jack a series of strong punches, one of them hitting Jack in his nose. Blood gushes out of Jack's nose and soon paints collar of his jersey and a bit of "USA" on front side of his jersey dark red. However, the adrenaline rush in a fighter from Boston is keeping him from feeling any pain. Jack answers to Czech's attack with few fast punches, but it seems he doesn't know where his punches land. This turns out to be a mistake, the last mistake, last nail to a coffin. Czech player swings his fist again, connecting already bloodied knuckles with Jack's eyebrows, splitting the flesh above Charlestown player's eye open with one good punch. With blood gushing from his nose and now his eyebrow, his right eye half blind from all that blood, Jack somehow manages to throw few more great punches, connecting his knuckles with Czech's nose and jaw. When the refs pull the two of them apart, their jerseys are covered with their own and another player's blood. Both of them have bloody traces under their noses, bruised and swollen cheeks, but Jack has blood streaming down his right cheek and covering his right eye with his own blood. He knows stiches are the only solution however, that doesn't bother him. As long as he proved no one messes with his teammates. No one touches his teammates and no one injures a girl.


	28. Chapter 27: 'Dust in the Wind'

CHAPTER 27: _DUST IN THE WIND_

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

A day after that game against Czechoslovakia, I find myself thinking only about Kim. Last we saw her before she was taken to hospital, she was laying unconscious on the stretcher. During practice, it seems my game is completely off.

"JACK! I have seen a dead animal play better hockey than you do!" Herb yells when I miss the puck again and this time almost bash Rizzo's nose with my shoulder. He quickly avoids the contact with my shoulder pads, yet it still finds time for quick "Watch out!".  
"I am sorry, Herb, it won't happen again…"  
"It better not."

"Yes, Herb. Sorry, Rizzo."

Near the end of practice, Doc shows up. Herb sent him to hospital to see how Kim is holding on, so his arrival causes…well, a slight chaos. It has never happened before, but as soon as we see Doc, we sprint to the boards in the middle of Herb's exercise. Against expectations, Herb doesn't say a word. Instead, he joins us and looks at Doc: "How is Kimberly?"

"Not good. Can I have a word with you in private?"

"That bad? Craig, take over the guys, please."

When Doc nods, we all look at each other. I see few of the guys shake their heads in disbelief, some of them close their eyes and take a deep breath while the rest of them just look at Herb dumbfounded. And then I see Neal. He looks like he has seen a ghost or maybe became a ghost himself. Koho notices that and moves closer to him, putting his arm lightly around Neal's shoulder. Neal looks at him and shakes head in disbelief, neither of them saying a word. Koho glances over at Mac, but the persnickety Minnesotan doesn't notice that.

"Okay, guys, let's get back to practice," coach Patrick drags us back to reality. But no one can focus on the exercises. After all those months Herb finally got what he wanted in Colorado- a team of players who would stick together and almost die for each other.

Herb follows Doc down the hospital halls to the room, where Kim is resting. There are wires, which are connecting her pale, still body with medical equipment. She is receiving intravenous infusion and her neck is supported to keep it in the right position. Herb loos at Doc: "What's the worse thing that can happen?"

"Doctors fear she might never walk again."

The time seems to stop even for a tough coach, who has grown somehow fond of the only girl on the team. It was her dedication and determination to be better than O'Callahan that made him believe she is one of the players who has chances to make it all the way to the Olympics.

"What are the chances she will recover?"  
"Zero. They say it will be a miracle if she will ever walk again. Herb…there is no other option, but to send her home…"

Merciless coach looks at his player through the small window and sighs: "Guess I have no other option but to cut her off the roster…"  
"You have to send her home," Doc corrects him gently and looks at the girl as well. His heart breaks at the sight of her and he continues softly: "She had so much waiting for her."

"I can't send her home… I will wait for her to wake up and then see what can I do."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Meet me later. I have to make few calls."

With those words he leaves Doc confused and alone in the middle of a hospital hallway. Herb needs solitude after seeing his player in a coma and on wires. Actually, there is only one person he longs to talk to right now. His wife, Patti.

" _Herb, I know it's hard, but she is injured. She might never walk again. You have to send her home."_

Herb sighs in defeat and goes through his hair with his fingers: "I know, Patti. I know I should've sent her home, but…I can't. She has given everything a coach could ask from his player."

His wife sighs: _"You knew bringing a girl into a team would not be a good idea."_

"I know I said that…What if I still keep her here?"  
 _"Herb, she hasn't even woken up from coma. You don't know how long is she going to be like that. You have to think of your team…speaking of them, how come you are talking to me instead of coaching them?"_

"Coach Patrick took over. Doc took me to hospital and I am back in the room now."

" _Herb, I know that's a tough draw for you, but you have to send her home…"_

"I don't know, Patti…thank you."

" _Get some rest and then decide. I know you will make a right choice."_

"Thank you for having faith in me. How are the kids?"

Another sigh, this time Patti sighs of exhaustion: _"It's hard. Danny has games and practices and so does Kelly. And they miss you."_

"I miss you too. Listen, I have a meeting with staff…"  
 _"I understand. Take care._ "

"I will."

After the call is cancelled, Herb stares at it for a bit more before putting it down and burying his face in his palms. He knew it would be hard, but he never imagined it would be that difficult.

After practice, most of the players head to their rooms or to a nearby bar for a drink. Even though coach Patrick is not as tough as Herb, he didn't let them rest and the fatigue is clear on their faces. Ignoring the tiredness, Mark Pavelich or Pav, as his teammates call him, only takes a guitar from his room and heads to coach's office. When he gets there, coach Patrick is still in, apparently waiting for Herb to come back. Pav clears his throat to get coach's attention. Coach Patrick looks up: "Is everything okay, Pav?"

Quiet University of Minnesota-Duluth alumni nods and nervously shifts weight to his other leg before speaking quietly: "Can we see Kim?"

"We haven't been told any orders, but we can try."

Then coach Patrick notices guitar in Pav's hands and looks at his shy player: "Uh, Pav?"

"Yes, coach?" he notices Patrick's eyes on his guitar and chuckles awkwardly: "Well, some say music helps…"

Later Pav sits next to Kim's bed and looks at his teammate for a bit. He has seen hockey injuries before, but he has never felt that heartbroken. Only after that shooting accident… he stretches his hand and puts it on her cold palm: "Kimmy, can…can you hear me?"

He sighs deeply and puts the guitar on his knees. His fingers cause the strings to produce a wonderful, soft sound. And then he starts singing. A soft 1977 song _Dust in the Wind_ by Kansas.

 _ **~JACK'S POV~**_

When I finally arrive to the hospital, I see Pav has already beaten me at being by her side. Our soft-spoken, shy Mark Pavelich is sitting next to Kim's bed and quietly playing a soft tune. Not wanting to interrupt it, I quietly open the door and slip on. With my back leaning on the wall near the exit, I listen to his fingers lure soft melody from his instrument. It takes some time for me to realize he is playing _Dust in the Wind_ and it hits me- the song he is playing fits her pale face and motionless body perfectly. When the final tune echoes through the room, I clean my throat and Pav turns around. His cheeks turn slightly pink: "Jack. I- It's not what it looks like…"  
"Pav, honestly, I am not going to tell anyone if you have a crush on her."  
"I don't have a crush on her," he whispers and looks at her.

"I feel sorry for her…" he continues as he gets up and heads to the door. He puts his hand on a doorknob and turns to be: "Don't injure her even more."  
"You are not going to forget the tryouts, am I right?"

He shakes his head and finally exits the room, leaving me alone with Kim. As soon as the door close, I collapse on the plastic chair next to her bed and take her hand in mine. Her skin is cold and it feels like I am holding ice in my hands. I lift her hand to my lips and lightly kiss back of her hand before putting it on my lap. With the other hand, I brush away a strand of hair.

"God damn it, I don't even know what to say… sorry won't be enough, probably. But I am sorry for acting like I did…It was not nice and I know that. But that's not the point, I mean, it is…but still. Kimmy, cut the crap and wake up. Please? Just wake up and continue to be our annoying teammate."

Maybe I expected her to open her eyes or to smile…I was hoping for any kind of sign she can hear me. When nothing happens, I continue holding her hand for a while and unexpectedly, I feel tears slowly making their way down my cheeks. With no one around, I don't see the need to wipe them. Besides, it feels good letting emotions go at least for a bit.

He doesn't even realize what the time is until a nurse comes in. She taps his shoulder gently: "Sir, it's time to leave."  
His eyes are swollen from countless tears when he lifts his chin and looks at the nurse: "Few more minutes."  
"You have been here for hours, even though you can only be here for thirty minutes."

"You let me be here for hours, why can't I stay few more minutes? If she wakes up."

"I am sorry, I can't let you stay."

Her words are kind, yet stern. I could try to charm her into letting me stay, but honestly, I don't have energy to do that.

" _Scared of a nurse, Jacky,"_ Kim's mocking voice creeps in my brain uninvited and instead of trying to shake it out of my head, I smile and mumble: "You better wake up, Brown. And then mock me."

Her chuckle echoes through my head and I turn around to see if she has woken up.

"Is everything okay, sir?"  
"Yes. Just…checked if she is still sleeping."  
"Don't worry, your girlfriend is in good hands."

There are words "She is not my girlfriend!" at the end of my tongue, but somehow…they don't slip off. Instead of saying anything, I simply nod and head out. Before the door close, I see nurse leaning to check her vital signs and whatnot. In that second I decide to wait a bit more. Guys on the team wouldn't understand, only Brots probably would, but I have to ask what's her condition.

As soon as the nurse steps out, I corner her. She looks at me with that smart, stern gaze and asks calmly: "May I help you?"  
"I only need to know…what do the doctors say? Will she be okay?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this, but…you seem genuinely concerned…"

"She is my…" _Should I lie or no? But I really have to know, what's the prognosis._ "I am her boyfriend."

When she tells me what the doctors say, I wish I had never asked. It seems like her career is not like dust in the wind. Blown away in a second. A lone tear joins the count of shredded sisters as I think of that. Like Pav played on his guitar... Dust in the wind.


	29. Chapter 28: That Awkward Day

CHAPTER 28: THAT AWKWARD DAY

 _ **~DECEMBER 23**_ _ **th**_ _ **1979~**_

Two days before Christmas phone in Herb's office rings. He picks it up and the polite female voice on the other side of the line informs him that Kim has woken up.

"How is she?"

"Well, she is awake. But she doesn't feel her legs."

"Thank you," Herb quickly ends the call, feeling burden on his shoulders become even more unbearable. He buries his head in his palms before picking up the phone and ringing another number.

All the way in Providence, the phone rings in Coach O'Connell's office. He has just finished morning practice with his girls and the call was the last thing he would expect. Still, he picks up the phone: "Coach Joseph O'Connell of Brown University speaking. Who am I talking to?"  
 _"Herb Brooks speaking. Are you a coach of a player named Kimberly Mayfield?"_

"Yes, I am. May I ask how do you know that?"

" _I am her coach at the Olympic team."_

"How is she doing?"

Receiving her coach's call from the Olympic team fills coach O'Connell with pride and at the same time some worry. What if coach Brooks doesn't like the way she is playing the game?

" _Unfortunately, I have to inform you she had an accident…"  
_ "W-What happened? Is she okay?"

" _What happens to her scholarship if she won't be able to play anymore?"_

"She loses it. If she got injured while playing for us, she would keep her scholarship, but in this case…"

" _So she won't be able to continue her education?"  
_ "That is correct. Can you please tell me, what happened to her?"

" _From what doctors can tell, she will remain a paraplegic."_

"Excuse me? But…how did that happen?"

" _She was sent head first into the boards and it was an unfortunate event. However, I wanted to inform you on her current state."  
_ "Can she have visitors?"

" _Yes."_

That's all coach O'Connell needs to know. He orders his young intern to bring few of the girls to his office: "Can you please get Lauren Bergam- Hill, Jennifer Lewis, Michelle Hanna and Susan Parker?"  
"What for, coach O'Connell?"  
"I need to talk to them. Please, send them to me."

Only five minutes later, four girls are gathered around coach's desk, all of them still in their hockey pants, which makes the confined space even stuffier. Lauren takes the role of the leader again and speaks slowly: "You sent for us, coach."

"It's about Kim."  
"We haven't heard from her for quite some time…"

"She is in a hospital. And I want you to go to Lake Placid and visit her."

"What about the game and…"  
"You may be excused and I will have a word with your professors. And can you inform Alice, please?"

Lauren quickly glances at her other teammates, feeling of discomfort growing in pit of her stomach. Then she looks back at their coach and nod: "We will inform Alice."

"I don't care about Kim," is the only thing Alice, Kim's "best friend" says after she crosses her arms on her chest and shakes her head. Four girls from the team look at her in utter silence until Jenny Lewis says quietly: "You two are supposed to be best friends…"

"I've been hanging out with that dweeb because it was fun to see her embarrass herself. And she trusted me."

"You two were roommates! And why didn't you tell her that sooner? Only now when she is away."

"She is mental."

Usually quiet Susan, who would never hurt anyone and apologizes at the games if she touches the opponent, looks at her teammate, a girl who was supposed to stand my Kim's side and spits out: "You are grossing me out."

"Don't tell me you actually like that hoser."

Susan's face turns red and Jenny brawls her hands in fists. Lauren looks at Michelle and she gets what she was trying to say. Keep those two out of trouble. Lauren, who is taller and a bit stronger, pulls back Jenny and says loudly: "Come on, we are going to Lake Placid."

Hours later, sometime after lunch, an old pick up truck parks in front of the hospital. Robbie McClanahan closes the door of Riff's old, rusty truck and looks at his friend: "Maybe you should invest in a new car."  
"Why? This one is still working."  
"Because it may fall apart soon."  
"Mac, not all of us can afford nice cars," Steve tries to be explain to his teammate.

"But you can't drive around in this beaten…well, piece of rolling shit."

"This beaten 'piece of shit' still got us to the hospital. Now I think we should move. Or are you still bothered by my car? If you are…you can always walk back…"

Mac rolls his eyes and starts walking when he realizes Riff is not following him. He stops and looks at his on-ice better half: "Steve, what's wrong?"

"You do realize that…Kim will not be the same?"

Brunette from Minnesota nods slowly and says quietly: "I know. I am still trying to pretend she will be okay."

"Me too, Mac. Me too."

"Are you serious?" Mac freezes on spot when they stop in front of Kim's room. Her bed is surrounded by four girls in Brown University hoodies. Riff next to him chuckles: "What's wrong with that, Mac? They are her teammates, they have as much right to be with her as we do."

"But…we are supposed to pick her up and bring her to the lodge."

Riff sighs and looks at his friend: "We will have to wait for few minutes, what could go wrong?"

The two Minnesotans, former bitter rivals, open the door and five gazes turn to them.

"Can we get the hell out of here?" Mac mumbles to Riff, who is trying hard not to start laughing. Mac has always lived for hockey, gave 110% every shift he has had, and could sometimes get a bit awkward. Guys at the U liked to joke he got together with Debbie only because she was the one to approach him and not vice versa.

"Mac! Riffy! It's good to see you," Kim smiles wide from her bed and beckons them over. Both of the players tuck their hands in their pockets and approach their teammate. Four girls move away a bit, but the boys still hear one of them whisper: "She never told us they are that good-looking."  
"If I was her, I'd hook up with both of them."

Riff chuckles quietly and glances at Mac, who seems like he is going to run out of the room. He leans to Kim and whispers: "They realize we hear them, right?"

"Yep, they do. Mac, everything okay? Ya seem pale."

When Rob looks at her, his cheeks are white with slight blush painting them and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

"E-Everything's okay…where's the nurse?"

"She will be here any second. Uh, guys," Kim smirks a bit and continues when both of them turn their whole attention to her: "I would like you to meet my teammates from Brown. Meet Lauren Bergam-Hill, Jennifer Lewis, Michelle Hanna and Susan Parker, my teammates. Girls, the two weirdoes here are my teammates, Robert McClanahan and Steve Christoff."

Riff smiles at the girls: "Nice to meet you. You have a great teammate and it was a pleasure playing with her."

"Well, she didn't mention how handsome her teammates are," Susan wraps a strand of her hair around her finger and winks at Rob, whose eyes widen in slight horror. Kim and Steve look at each other, trying hard not to start laughing.

"Uh, um, thank you… I guess," team's rich boy stutters and looks down in obvious discomfort, while his teammates start to bite back laughter. Kim can't hold it back anymore and snickers: "Macky, meet Susan, our freshman. Susie, this is Mac, a forward from the University of Minnesota."  
"I think you two would really get along," Riff continues with an innocent smile plastered on his face.

Susan stretches out her hand: "Nice to meet you, Mac."

"Uh, actually it's Rob McClanahan," he nervously ruffles his hair and transfers his body weight on his other leg. With slightly redder cheeks, he shakes her hand and flashes her a little shy smile, accidentally revealing his tooth gap he is always trying to hide when talking to people he has just met: "Nice to meet you too."

She giggles: "Are you actually missing a tooth?"

Mac looks at his teammates with desperate look in his eyes and huffs when he sees them barely keeping it together. He looks down and shakes his head: "N-no, I don't know what, uh,…No, I don't have a, ehm, missing tooth."

"He does. One of his former rivals knocked it out for him," Kim says and looks at embarrassed twenty-one-year-old Gopher.

"Thank you very much, Kim," he says through gritted teeth and sighs: "Okay, okay, one of the guys on the team knocked it out."

"It suits you. Makes you look even more…attractive and dangerous."  
"If a candy cane can be dangerous," Riff leans down to Kim and whispers, causing the girl to start laughing.

"I heard that, Steve Christoff. Can we go now, please? Herb is waiting for us."  
It was obvious he felt awkward and would do anything to leave. But that's not what his teammates were thinking. Everyone on the team loved to see his reactions and since they have never seen a girl hit on him, Kim and Riff decided to let him suffer a bit longer.

"What about you?" Lauren asks Christoff and smiles a bit, fixing her hair slightly. He offers her a grin: "Sorry, sweetie, I am taken."  
"It would surprise me if a guy like you was single."  
"Well, I will take that as a huge compliment. Thank you very much. Can't believe you are not in a relationship…"

Now Steve blushes a bit, but regains control of himself soon. Lauren looks down a bit: "My ex has just dumped me. Few days ago."

Riff opens her mouth, trying to say something, but Kim interrupts: "What? Lauren, are you serious?"  
Alternate captain of Brown University looks at her and nods: "Unfortunately."  
"But…"  
"Your friend Alice…well, she hooked up with him, made him break up with me and then she is the one who caught Alec."  
"Are we talking about Alice Roy?" Kim sounds stunned. Ali has always been a quiet one, not wanting to hurt anyone. She was the one who was apologizing if she took someone's puck during the game.

"Kimmy, she is not what she appears to be…" Lauren sighs and sits down on her friend's bed…

 _ **~KIMBERLY'S POV~**_

"So this Alice chick… is she your best friend?"

"W-Was…" I murmur in shock and stare blankly at the back of passanger's seat where Rob is sitting with his arms crossed. Steve looks at our grumpy-looking teammate and sighs: "Mac, what's wrong?"  
"Nothing."  
"Come on, there is something clearly not right…"  
"Fine, I will tell you what bothers me. You two didn't help me out back there. I thought we were supposed to be teammates and friends, but guess I was wron-"  
"You are making a scene out of nothing, Mac," Steve sighs and honks when another car nearly brushes up against his car.  
"Watch out, fucking moron!" Stevey yells and honks again, probably just to annoy the other driver. When the latter looks who is honking, Steve lifts his middle finger and swears again: "What a fucking asshole." Then he turns to me and smiles quickly: "Glad you are awake again, Kimmy."  
"Do you know when coach will let me on the ice? Oh, and thank you for picking me up."  
"Christmas wouldn't be the same without our girl. Right, Mac."  
"If you two helped me out back there, that would be even nicer."  
"McClanahan, sorry to tell you that, but this is not about you and your ass."

"Steve, you two were laughing when she asked me to 'grab a coffee with her' and I don't know what's so funny with telling her 'I don't have time and I came to pick up my teammate'. Who is currently laughing her ass off as well."  
"You could've told her you have a fiancée! Susie is not some bimbo and she would stop if you told her that," I stand up for my friend. Mac turns around and looks at me: "I couldn't just said that. I would hurt her."  
"Not as much as repeatedly rejecting her," Steve says quietly before I can say anything else. I see Mac sink deeper into his seat: "You could've at least given me a clue."  
"It wasn't that bad, Macky…"  
"I would rather relive Minnesota State Championship in 1976 than go through that thing again…"

Steve looks at Mac and smirks a bit, but doesn't say a word. Even when I ask what is that all about, I get no answer from neither of them. Must've been something painful for Rob and victorious for Steve, that's all I can get from their expressions.


End file.
